


rigged game

by theleftboobgrabber



Series: (betting on us) [2]
Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bobby get vibe checked, Car Accidents, Car Sex, Christopher Diaz is a National Treasure, Date Night, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Hurt Eddie Diaz, Hurt Evan "Buck" Buckley, M/M, POV Eddie Diaz, POV Evan "Buck" Buckley, Possessive Eddie Diaz, Possessive Evan "Buck" Buckley, Possessive Sex, Protective Eddie Diaz, Sequel, Sexual Frustration, Sexual Tension, Shameless Smut, buck is a brat, canon compliant until 3x15 after that i do what i want, himbos in love, lust induced stupidity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:35:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24274426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theleftboobgrabber/pseuds/theleftboobgrabber
Summary: A month after the betting debacle and getting together, Buck and Eddie go on a date“Dancing? No, Babe, no no no no, I don’t do dancing, okay? I’m shit at dancing, you will dump me if we go dancing together.”“You can’t be that bad,” Eddie jokes, pushing his hips against his, hands so fucking low he’s grabbing Buck’s ass and he sways them a little, so not helping the pressure against Buck’s  zipper.Buck lets out a nervous laugh, turned on but too embarrassed to grind back. “I’m mortifying.”“I know how you move those hips, Evan. Dancing’s the same,” Eddie whispers and fuck his eyes… “With clothes on,” he amends, popping a kiss on his lips, before slapping his ass. “Now, come on before all restaurants are full, I’m fucking starving.”Sequel to the weekly bet (but the forever kind)
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley & Bobby Nash, Evan "Buck" Buckley & Christopher Diaz & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz
Series: (betting on us) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1739368
Comments: 208
Kudos: 752





	1. 7 pm

**Author's Note:**

> so... same deal as last time. I have four chapters, they're done, but I reserve the right to add/revise them before posting so..... posting MAY vary. and keep in mind this is more of a teaser for against all odds, so lots of stuff in there will be explored in the third fic!
> 
> [here's a lil playlist to go with](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7yf1RSVwvrKbH1ito03yUl?si=iQ6y2wNMQ1ebOncFGagkGA)

Buck’s winning.

He’s totally winning. Just… taking his time actually doing it, but he hasn’t played this game in a while, so he’s rusty with the controls. But he’s winning. That twenty frag gap is nothing, he came back from worse, it’s fine it’s cool- that’s when YouRMOMMAjoke kills him for the fourth time in a row with a head shot from across the map. 

“Okay Buck, get a fucking grip,” he cheers himself, rolling his shoulders. He used to be a Crucible rock star and now… shit. _Did they change the hunter stats or something?_

In truth, he knows what the problem is. _Who_ . The hot, loving, adorable problem that’s consuming ninety five percent of his free time now they are dating. _Not that Buck’s complaining_ . Loneliness had been eating at him for months - _years_ , if he's being honest. Eddie and Chris were far better than spending hours upon hours trying to get ranked on PvP, with only the game voice over for company and the odd hate message after he trashed someone.

But that doesn’t mean Buck likes being the one getting trashed. He probably wouldn’t be playing this badly if he wasn’t checking his messages from Eddie every minute like some goddamn teenager left on read.

And he’s not. He’s a goddamn 27 year old left on read and why isn’t Eddie answering? Why why why?

His character gets killed again and Buck closes his eyes, breathing deeply until he hears the respawn sound effect.

He shouldn’t have sent that last picture of him, he _knew_ , why couldn’t he just ask his boyfriend out like a grown up? _Let me take you somewhere nice tonight_ didn’t have to be accompanied by twelve half nudes, each more provocative than the last.

(He hasn’t seen Eddie in a few days, he’s… needier than usual. Imagining the face journey Eddie went through at every new picture, his flushed face, his dilated pupils, the pinched expression of frustration he wears so well? It got Buck through the afternoon of boredom and want)

They have been dating for a month now, and it’s been… amazing. 

Complicated too, with _Chris not knowing_ and _the squad knowing_ and the work they do, but it’s all worth it, to have Eddie flushed against him and so freaking warm and beautiful and _Buck’s_.

He’s over at the Diaz's house more than he is here at the loft, both of them having perfected waking up a little earlier than they could so Chris doesn’t catch them in bed together. It’s not a conversation either of them are ready for, but it’s an exercise in frustration and aborted contact. Every touch that’s becoming natural, every word of affection that escapes them, _that are becoming part of them_ , all of those are getting them closer and closer to Chris guessing that they’re not just friends anymore. It’s freaking them out a little. _No, fuck_ , stratch that, it’s freaking out Buck A LOT. Cause if Chris doesn’t like them together, if Chris isn’t ready for his dad to date again after Shannon’s death... then they both know it’s over, ‘cause Eddie won’t force Chris to be okay with it, and Buck can’t stomach the idea of bringing that kind of mess into Chris’ life.

Chris knowing could make or break them, and Buck will have to accept it, and _let go_ . And it’s not like they could go back to be just friends. They can’t. They won’t. Buck knows it, feels it in his bones. They talked about it. A talk that Buck had to walk away from, not in anger, but in pain. _Win all or lose all_. It’s the price to pay for getting Eddie, that’s it's only conditional on Chris’s acceptance, that it can all be taken away.

Right now though, Buck still gets to have the two of them together and happy. He often pretends this is his life, that the Diaz’s house is his home, his kitchen, his bed. That if he wanted, he could call their kid to the table when dinner’s ready, pass his arm around his boyfriend's waist and kiss him on the cheek in front of Christopher, and for it to be normal.

_For it to be his._

They’re not there yet. They might never be. But Buck’s still betting on them. He glances at the picture of him and Chris at the pier before the tsunami hit them he had printed and framed. He had put it on the TV stand so he could always see it when he’s playing or killing time and missing the little guy. It helps, reminding him that Chris loves him and probably will be okay with them together.

Probably.

His character dies on screen again and he grunts, the plastic controller in his hands making a distressed noise with how hard he’s holding it. He quickly pulls up his inventory, swapping his revolver/auto rifle combo for a shotgun/submachine one. Fuck range weapons, it’s personal now. YouRMOMMAjoke wants violence and unfairness? He’s gonna have it.

Buck rolls his head on his shoulders, channeling his frustration and fears in the game, quickly finding the last place on the map that fucking camper was and sneaks up on him, shooting him straight through the head. And he does it again, and again, and again, until the match ends with his team winning and Buck in the top three of his team with a positive k/d ratio.

A notification pops on the left corner of his screen not half a minute later, a message from YouRMOMMAjoke, but Buck doesn’t care, letting the matchmaking reload him into a new match. He has some more pent up anger to work through he realises as he thumbs through his phone. Still no message from Eddie. 

_Shit._

_Fuck._

He’s tempted to check with Chim if Eddie got off work okay, but he knows that they would have called him immediately if he had been injured, even a little. They know how he gets.

The squad’s… the squad has been as supporting as horrible. Everyone’s butting in, everyone’s with their own advice, their own warnings, their own version of _You know… perhaps one of you should switch stations, for your own sake._

And Buck, he knows they mean well, but after Chim had suggested it, he had not talked to his future brother-in-law for three days straight. Sometimes he regrets telling them about being together only a day after it happened. He wished he and Eddie had had some time solidifying this on their own without anyone else input. Athena had the right idea when she kept Bobby for herself in the beginning of their relationship. Though in their case, it had been easier to hide it since they didn’t work together (except from Hen, who was basically Sherlock Holmes).

Buck’s sure they could have been discreet and fooled the others.

Somehow, despite the squad teasing that they couldn’t work together and keep their hands to themselves, they had managed to keep the PDA at work minimal. Sure, sometimes they kissed when no one was around, sometimes he could feel Eddie looking at him change a little too intently and he couldn’t help putting on a show when that was the case… and sometimes they fell asleep on top of each other on a couch and got woken up by someone cooing over them and taking pictures “for HR complain materials”. But that was it. They were grown men, not horny teenagers. They could be professional and keep it PG. Hell, Buck had refrained from slapping Eddie’s perfect round ass at work for a month! (that was worth a medal or something, because that ass was… really slap worthy).

The only times it really got heated at the station was when they were working out, and even then they would just stare at the other from opposite sides of the gym like two starving animals, _Eddie all sweaty and glistering muscles just-_ Buck groans at the image.

(Getting home after that was always so goddamn good. The sturdiness of the house and the loft front doors had been thoroughly tested several times because of it)

Unfortunately for YouRMOMMAjoke, they’re still on opposite sides in the new match, and Buck’s takes disturbing pleasure hunting down the guy and killing him as many times as he can: hoping over barricades to get to him and one-shooting him; hiding in doorways with a sword; doing the age old hunter bunny routing jumping over him and letting him unload his weapon until Buck can melee him when he is reloading. All of it probably making the guy think about rage quiting more than once.

He wishes he could wreck his fears as easily.

But… the truth _-the truth that Buck doesn’t like to acknowledge_ , because it’s the worst- is that Chim had a point when he suggested one of them transferred to another station. _Several in fact_.

Working with Eddie had always been easy, always been natural and that even when Buck was posturing and puffing his feathers to prove he was awesome too, that he was amazing, that he was still needed. They fell into fast friendship, one that double timed as a huge ass crush on Buck’s side, and as they did, they turned into such a well-oiled machine that there was no questioning the _unit_ they formed. Bobby’s rapid fire orders were always _Buckley! Diaz!_ and that’s how they like it, knowing they have each other’s back.

Since they had started dating, since Buck didn’t have to curve and carve his love for Eddie to fit into a friendship appropriate box when the other man was around, keeping his distance and his raw emotions for himself on bad calls had been… harder.

Not one but _two emotionally compromised firefighters_ on the job can’t good for them or the rest of the 118.

Buck had already been the talk of the LAFD for losing it so utterly when the crane fell down on top of the pipe Eddie was stuck in. Everyone there knew. Everyone had known for years. Everyone but Eddie. But he knows now and feels the same.

 _Fears the same_.

They have a future together now, and losing Eddie is even less of an option than it was before. When they’re on a call, It’s hard to respect his ability to work and take risks and say “I got your back,” instead of “someone else can do that stupid thing,” or sob “please come back to me.” Worse, Buck knows the reverse is true. Truer, in fact. They are all painfully aware he’s the more reckless out of the two of them. It’s something they still have to work on.

But that’s okay. They have time. They have the will to put on the work, to choose each other everyday, again and again and again.

“And you’re not ready,” Eddie says, barely three feet away from him, making Buck jump and shout in surprise.

“ _What the fuck?_ ” he shrieks as his character gets shoulder charged to death on screen, “when did you get here?”

There was no knock he thinks, but he probably wouldn’t have heard it anyway over the sounds of machine guns and flaming hammer coming from the TV. And, well, even before they had been dating, the point of giving Eddie his own key to the loft was for him to come and go as he pleased, without Buck having to get the door.

“Long enough to realise you don’t let me win when we’re playing with Chris. You actually suck,” Eddie chuckles.

“Ah ah ah. You would know,” Buck throws back cheekily, earning that grunt/faint blush combo Eddie does when he’s getting worked up, but refuses to be affected by it.

(He has a _reputation_ , you understand)

He lets his duffel bag hit the floor, rolling his honey brown eyes. “Why are you still in your pjs?” he gestures up and down at Buck, “ _I thought you were taking me somewhere nice_ ,” Eddie air quotes him before crossing his arms, eyebrows furrowed. He is smiling hard though, and it’s ruining the effect in the best way and _oh my God_ , Buck loves him so much-

Eddie _is_ wearing something other than his patented colorless henleys -and not even one of his khakis shirts that he believes are ‘dressing up’. His jeans are _tight_ , his red button down somehow tighter, hugging his chest and his arms and damn, they’re never making it out of the loft with him looking like that.

“Yeah, about thaaaaaat…” he begins, dragging the word around as he gets lost checking Eddie out, _fuck but he’s hot_ , and Buck’s only human. “I was definitively talking about my bed,” he lies, pretending he's confessing, before the game loudly announces that his team lost the match and there goes the positive k/d ratio he’s been working hard all day at. He quickly recovers the controller from where he dropped it on the rug and shuts down the game and the PS4 along with it. “My bed is reeeal nice,” he repeats, waggling his eyebrows in a way that he wants to be enticing, but is probably dorky.

Eddie snorts, ‘cause he’s into dorky and _Buck_. 

He walks to the couch and flops next to him, sighing as he snuggles into Buck’s space, pushing his head into his neck, eyes closed.

“How was the shift?” Buck asks, kissing the top of his head and putting an arm around his shoulders. “You didn’t even answer my message.”

“Fine I guess. But you made it _so. much. worse._ ‘s why I didn’t answer.”

Buck giggles. “Did I, now?” and yes, he did. Not his fault he got bored and had a phone with a good camera.

And this is still new enough that when Eddie’s eyes open, the heat in them a physical thing that Buck has to brace for, it leaves him a little breathless, still a bit starstruck this is happening outside of his head, real and _his_.

Eddie surges against him and kisses him so hard Buck gets light headed, groaning into it, relieved at finally having Eddie back with him after being apart for a few days.

(Hen and Chim have changed the Codependency definition on Wikipedia to list Evan Buckley and Eddie Diaz last week. It had taken five minutes for the modification to be taken down, but not before they had screencapped it and taped the print outs to Buck and Eddie’s lockers. The form of retaliation Buck would pursue was still unclear, but he had _ideas_ )

To think that two months ago he was learning to make his peace with never having this; to be Eddie’s best man at his wedding with that hot English teacher. Fuck hell, he even babysat Chris for one of their dates, feeling like shit the entire time and crying like a baby at some point. At least he had the excuse of watching Disney’s Hercules with Chris when he broke down feeling like shit. The kid had spent the last part of the movie hugging him, reassuring him that Meg would not stay dead for long and that they would end up together.

Fuck if that didn’t make Buck cries harder. Honestly, Chris gave the best hugs, but nothing could really fix heartbreak that easily.

And if Buck had been viciously satisfied when Eddie stayed twenty minutes on the phone with _him_ , talking and laughing and asking about _his_ day instead of saying goodnight and going back to his date after Chris was already asleep… Well, that was his prerogative as Eddie’s hopelessly in love best friend.

He’s kissing Eddie Diaz right now anyway, so hopeless who? _Not. Buck_.

“You think too much,” Eddie pants in his mouth, rubbing their noses together affectionately, eyes crinkling from smiling so much, “waaaay too much.”

Buck chuckles. “Perhaps someone isn’t kissing me hard enough,” he taunts.

“Fucking brat,” Eddie growls.

“Yeah yeah, that’s the spirit,” he moans, getting what he wants when Eddie goes feral against him, lips and hands demanding.

They both know Eddie gets off on Buck’s cocky little shit routine, and Buck gets off on Eddie’s “ _gonna fuck you so pliant you’ll forget you name_ ” promises against his lips.

The position they’re in is a little awkward though, side by side isn’t made for that kind of heat, and Buck pushes Eddie around a little until he’s flush with the back of the couch. Kissing hard takes two, after all. Now he can throw his leg over Eddie’s thighs and sit himself on his lap, one hand caressing his neck, thumb digging where Buck wishes he could leave a mark.

“We can still go somewhe-” he starts to fuck with him, but Eddie shakes his head vehemently.

His heavy lidded eyes are black with lust and not leaving Buck’s mouth when he says darkly, “You’ve started it, you finish it Ev.”

Buck withdraws away from him to look down at him, at his sexy shirt, lips out of reach and Eddie whines at that. He follows him so he can mouth at his neck, teasing teeth on his pulse. He has been through Eddie’s closet enough time in the past month (and before that) to know that this shirt is brand new. As in, _bought for Buck’s appreciation_.

(And _oh boy_ does he appreciate it)

“Me thinks you just dressed like that for revenge,” Buck tells him, popping off the first few buttons of Eddie’s red shirt, exposing his collarbones and pecs and prime hickey territory. 

(“Hickeys that size aren’t professional Buck,” Bobby had said. So of course Buck had made a point of thoroughly marking Eddie everywhere else on his chest and his back and _between his thighs_ and the faces the squad had made one morning when Eddie changed his shirt? Absolutely priceless)

“Re-revenge? ‘m not like that,” Eddie lies, shaking his head, mouth a thin line that barely does the job of suppressing his smile.

“ _Aaaaah_ , didn’t you say I made your shift hell?”

Eddie groans, head slamming on the headrest of the couch, biting his bottom lip. “You and your fucking selfies. But I’m good now,” he shrugs, feigning desinteressement, but the way his hips trust up just so-

 _Yeah_.

Buck knows Eddie well enough by now to know what he wants, and what he came here to get. Perks of having a day off when Eddie had a relatively short afternoon shift was to be able to fuck with him and wind him so, so tight, just like he liked. And perhaps Buck should have stopped after the sixth picture of him smirking with his hand down his _-Eddie’s_ \- baseball shorts, but what was the fun in that?

“Did you even want to go out? Or are you just here to fuck me dumb?” he asks, trailing kisses down the side of Eddie’s neck, rolling his hips down, hard.

Eddie’s hands settle on his ass, possessive and digging in, forcing him closer (not that Buck has to be forced, but they both do enjoy manhandling a little too much). “Can’t it be both?” he breaths.

“Oh it can, but you do realise I have tight jeans too, right? And a competitive streak bigger than your hair,” he challenges, pushing his fingers into the brand new floof gracing Eddie’s head -it’s still on the shorter side, but damn if Buck hasn’t been taking advantage of it.

Eddie absently kisses his wrist, eyes fluttering close for a moment when Buck tugs his hair a little, pushing into the touch like a cat. 

When he speaks, Eddie’s voice is getting a little rough. “So you want to, what exactly? Go out- aaand, uh, and try to make the other break from frustration? I’m not getting arrested for public exposure, not even for your ass.” His hands are getting restless, bunching the fabric of Buck’s short, tugging it down a little.

Buck grinds his ass against the erection underneath him, _bitch please_ on his face. Fuck, but Eddie goes from 0 to 100 like that sport car Buck got for his sixteenth birthday. Though riding Eddie is so goddamn more satisfying than the Camaro ever was -also, no one can take the keys away from him.

“Or we could stay here and you could fuck me stupid for all the mean things I did to you today,” Buck proposes instead, voice pitched lower. He doesn’t even know what he wants more, doesn’t even care. _He just wants Eddie._

And Eddie looks like he’s gone and went to heaven for a second, like Buck already made him come and yeah, that’s a high Buck is never letting go of.

“Yeah, I think-” Eddie begins, before he has to take a big breath when Buck tugs at his hair again to fuck with him, “I think you would like that wayyy too much Evan,” he says, smiling like a shark. He slaps Buck’s ass unceremoniously before he pushes him off his lap and gets up on shaky legs, the front of his jeans tented in the best way. “Get dressed. You said you wanted to wine and dine me. _You do it_.”

Buck grins at that, crazy with lust and impatience, but if that’s how Eddie wants to play it, they’ll make it a duo.

  
  


Buck leaves Eddie downstairs so he can get dressed, but not before fondling his own erection through his shorts, right there in front of Eddie and sprawled all over the couch like some kind of offering. Unfortunately, Eddie doesn’t take the bait, instead he exhales like he’s going to die, and it’s so funny, so delicious when he turns away and power walks toward the kitchen area, tight jean clad ass providing a fucking _view_.

Upstairs, Buck quickly gets naked, throwing his shirt and baseball shorts in the vague direction of the kitchen, hoping one or both will fall on Eddie’s head. He finds his firetruck red underwear, puts them on, adjusting his sad, painfully hard dick inside and passes on the tightest jeans he owns. They’re almost painful to zip up and really, he can’t wait for Eddie to undress him… either the anticipation or the relief might kill him, but that will take a few hours to find out which one. It takes him a longer time to find his blue dress shirt and he can hear Eddie’s deep dramatic sighs of frustration coming from downstairs. 

“ _I know_ , I’m going as fast as I can,” he calls.

Eddie grumbles, “which you wouldn’t have to do if you had been ready when I got here.”

“Yeah well, my initial plan was to lure you upstairs as soon as you got in,” Buck keeps on the lie, laughing proudly. Eddie doesn't need to know how Buck was worried he was mad and not coming at all. “That didn’t require jeans! I was going for practicality! You know, for your sake, since you just got off work.”

Eddie mutters something that is real close to “ _I’ll show you getting off_ ,” and Buck snickers, checking himself out in the mirror and deciding to let half of the buttons of his shirt open. _That’ll teach him_. He’s not the only one that likes collarbones in this loft. He ruffles his hair, letting them curly and forgoing his usual gel even if he doesn't really like how much it makes him look like his father.

He snorts at the idea, doubting Georges Buckley ever looked this happy.

“‘kay I’m ready. Do not jump me now, or I win,” he drawls as he takes his time down the stairs.

Eddie looks a little pinched as he follows him with his eyes, a little flushed. He storms to the bottom of the stairs and hauls him for a kiss so intense Buck’s lucky he grabs the ramp. He would have fallen on his ass otherwise.

Forehead against forehead, panting in each other's mouth and grinning like loons, Eddie’s hands on his hips- _yeah,_ _I win_. _I win. I win. I win. Fuck. I get this. I get this_ forever _if I don't mess up._

“You win nothing,” Eddie forces out, eyes downcast, one hand coming to his chest, fingertips getting under his half opened shirt, and pushing it out of the way so they can expose the tattoo underneath his right collarbone. “And… fuck, Evan, why do you have to be this _\- indecent?!_ ”

“Just for you,” Buck says, wincing at how corny he sounds. 

Eddie doesn’t seem to mind, groaning, letting his head fall on his shoulder, nosing at his neck, breathing him in. “You’ll be the death of me.”

And with control that should be inhuman, Eddie buttons his shirt _up_ , leaving Buck’s mouth hanging in outrage.

“If I didn’t know you loved me, I’ll be offended by the name calling,” he breathes.

“I do.” Eddie gives him a small peck on his neck, tickling him a little with his feather-light lips and prickly facial hair. “ _Love you_.”

“Yeah, I love you too. Enough that I wouldn’t blame you too much if you couldn’t control yourself and had your-”

“Nope. This is a question of honor now,” Eddie says, stepping away from him quickly, shoving his hands in his pockets (and with how tight those jeans are, it’s a feat in and of itself).

“Laaaaaaaaame,” Buck laments, before he remembers he has something for Eddie. “Oh wait, I got my results!” and he runs to the kitchen island, stretching over it to rummage through the pile of envelopes there. “Ah! here it is!”

When he turns around, Eddie’s holding his own folded envelope. “Got it in the mail this morning too.”

They had gone getting tested earlier in the week together and while neither of them were worried, it was still important. They exchange their results, and Buck can’t help but say, self depreciation so heavy in his tone he winces at himself, “Somehow all those years of whoring around didn’t give me any STDs.”

Eddie’s hands stop unfolding his results, forbidding eyebrows and all, chasing Buck’s eyes when he tries to look away, forcing him to _hear_ what he has to say. “Nothing wrong with having lots of sex,” he asserts.

“No, that’s-”

 _Shit_ , he knows Eddie doesn’t like when he gets self-flagellating, that it worries him that Buck hates himself or something. And… well. He’s not exactly wrong, even if he’s not exactly right either. Bobby made sure to drill how little respect Buck deserved for being such a man whore. It still stings, still echoes with the judgement of others. Sleeping with half the girls he ever said _Hey_ to isn’t something Buck’s proud of, but he’s not dying over it. “I know. I was just- just check the damn results Eds,” he says, unfolding Eddie’s and quickly scanning it. Of course Eddie’s clean and Buck’s clean and now that’s out of the way, and they can do whatever.

It takes a second too long for the weight of Eddie’s eyes to disappear and why Buck can’t fucking shut up and not ruin these moments?

When Buck looks back up, Eddie is reading his results, and he doesn’t look surprised or shocked that Buck’s isn’t _dirty and used_ . Buck tries real hard to bury those words deep at the back of his head. Eddie doesn’t think he’s damaged goods, he never thought that. Eddie’s not his father, not his mother. _Not Hayden_.

( _“It’s a miracle he hasn’t asked for abortion money yet,” his mother’s voice was dead cold, as always when none of her constituents were around. In the house, she didn’t care who heard her talk like that. Especially not her son._

_His father, though, sounded bored. “What happened?”_

_“He got caught having sex with some cheerleader on the school parking lot in that stupid car you bought him. At this point, I wonder if he’s not doing it on purpose, he knows it’s reelection year.”_

_“Then take the keys away from him, Marion. It’s not like he has anything to going on for him beside that car.”_ )

“No more overpriced condoms,” Eddie grins at him, unaware of the dark place Buck just went, folding back his results and putting it carefully back in the envelope and on the kitchen isle.

“Nope,” Buck pops on his lips, focusing on Eddie and how loving he is, how good they are for each other. “Water bills are gonna explode though.”

Eddie laughs, “Eh, wet wipes.”

“Smart.”

Buck doesn’t have anything against condoms, on the contrary, but there is something to be said about coming inside someone else and marking them that both turns them one. The team jokes about how possessive and codependent they are, but in truth, _they have no idea_ how true that is.

(And at least with each other, they don’t risk getting someone pregnant)

“Wanna start now?” Buck tries, because sure, he’s dressed and he’s actually hungry now, but Eddie’s so fucking hot and probably has plans to punish him for all the half nudes he sent during his shift... Buck’s _this close_ to go on his knees and begs for it -he’s a brat, sure, but he’s a brat that fucking loves when Eddie gets bossy with him and tells him how it’s gonna be.

Who could have guessed that Buck’s problem with authority could be dealt with Eddie calling him _Evan_ and fucking him so hard he went pre-verbal? That learning curve had been fun to climb.

“I want to fuck you so much,” Eddie says, before kissing him so sweet, _so tender_ , it fries Buck’s brain with conflicting signals, his dick and his heart going supernova at the same time. It takes a second for Buck to remember he did ask if Eddie was yielding. “But I’ll do it after dinner,” Eddie continues, smug as can be, “and dancing.”

Buck’s nodding along, would have nodded along to anything Eddie had said really, before he does a double take when the word registers. “Dancing? No, Babe, _no no no no_ , I don’t do dancing, okay? I’m shit at dancing, _you will dump me_ if we go dancing together.”

“You can’t be that bad,” Eddie jokes, pushing his hips against his, hands so fucking low he’s grabbing Buck’s ass and he sways them a little, so not helping the pressure against Buck’s zipper.

Buck lets out a nervous laugh, turned on but too embarrassed to grind back. “I’m mortifying.”

“I know how you move those hips, _Evan_. Dancing’s the same,” Eddie whispers and fuck his eyes… “With clothes on,” he amends, popping a kiss on his lips, before slapping his ass. “Now, come on before all restaurants are full, I’m fucking starving.”

  
And Buck sighs deeply, but follows him anyways, smiling so hard his cheeks are hurting. How is he supposed to win this game when Eddie’s just… _like that_?


	2. 8:42 pm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw at the end

It’s crazy how much stuff changed between them in the past month, and how much didn’t.

They already had been so intricaly wrapped around the other, that beside the kissing and the sex and pit of despair no longer existing in their hearts, Buck and Eddie just remained… Buck and Eddie.

And it’s good. _It’s great_. A natural progression.

But Buck also needs them to break out of the best friends pattern, where they just hang out at each other's places, waiting for Chris to go to bed so they can snuggle together on the couch and dream of a life together in hushed tones. After all, this is still new, still fragile enough that talking out loud might wake them up back to real life, where miracles and wishes don’t come true.

He was serious when he told Eddie that he and Chris were _it_ for him, and not playing house until he gets something better or easier. It’s not even on his mind to regret dating a single dad. Sure it does bring complications to their relationship, but he wouldn’t even think about wishing Chris away. He meant it. _Means it_.

Still, they both needed a child free night.

Second guessing every touch around Chris is a source of stress and frustration Buck doesn’t like to admit. He sounds like a selfish asshole when he speaks about it, despite Eddie’s reassurances he feels just like him. But for once, he doesn’t feel guilty that Eddie had to ship his kid to Pepa so that they can have the night for themselves. He loves that kid like his own, but now he understands why Athena, Bobby, Hen and Karen spend so much on babysitting money.

Between their schedule and Chris, they didn’t really have time for real grown up dates that much in the past month. He hopes it actually goes well.

The Jeep’s radio is loud, both of them singing and laughing and joking, Buck perhaps driving a little too fast, Eddie openly staring at him like he’s the meal he was promised. 

  
  


“Where are we going anyway?” Eddie asks after a while of driving, eyes closed and body relaxed in the passenger seat, enjoying the setting sun on his face.

Buck should be concentrating on the road. He knows he should. He’s a firefighter. He knows how fast a car crash can happen because drivers are not fully focused but _fuck_ . Eddie is the most beautiful man on the planet and- and- he’s just here and _Buck’s_ and isn’t it the damndest thing?

Eddie opens his eyes, softest smile on his face. “Buck?”

“Uh?”

“Where are we going to eat?” he asks again and shit, Buck forgot to answer him. It’s not his fault, Eddie’s all golden brown skin and facial hair. It’s distracting.

“You’ll see. ’ts gonna blow your mind,” Buck assures him, but his hands are a little sweaty on the wheel, and it has nothing to do with the heat. Eddie’s not a five star restaurant kind of guy, but he might get disappointed by the place Buck settled on. He checks the GPS of his Jeep -that he set on the wrong street number to keep the surprise. “We’re close.”

He takes a while to find parking space, but when they do and exits the Jeep, Eddie’s quick to round it so he can take Buck’s hand in his, squeezing it lightly, bright smile on his face. It’s not the first time he initiates hand holding in public, but it still blows Buck’s brain.

It had taken a few weeks, a few aborted tries on Buck’s part, a few miscommunicated confessions that ended with both of them frustrated and scared. Eddie was still new at this, at what the world could throw at them for being together and really, Buck understood why he was shying away from that hatred by not exposing their relationship to strangers. But it was hard not to compare this with Hayden and the game he played in senior year.

Buck sighs in contentment, before he brings their joined hands to his mouth to kiss Eddie’s.

“C’mon, weren’t you starving?”

  
  


Eddie actually stops walking when Buck does a _ta-daa_ hand motion when they get near the small place Athena recommended to Buck a while ago.

“Texan barbecue?” he says softly, eyes round and gaping at the large lone star flag floating outside the BBQ.

Buck nods. “The owners are actually Texans, Athena sai-”

He can’t finish because he has 6ft of hot and starving Eddie Diaz in his arms, kissing him furiously, sanding his face in the process with that glorious facial hair. “ _You do love me_.”

Buck pouts playfully into the kiss, biting Eddie’s bottom lip. “Did you just get that? Man, I’m bad at th-”

“No. You’re the best,” Eddie breaths, hands fisted in Buck’s shirt, keeping him close. He kisses him again, lips set on devouring him -not that Buck is complaining. “ _Fuck_.”

“Yeah, keep some of that hunger for actual diner,” Buck admonishes him, rubbing their noses together. He grabs Eddie’s hand and walks them to the restaurant door, loud country filtering through. Before he pushes it though, he turns back, giving Eddie his cockiest Buck 1.0 smile. “You’ll get dessert eventually.”

Eddie just groans at him and Buck can hear it in his head, the usual, _you’re gonna be the death of me._

  
  


The restaurant is as crowded and loud and cheery as Athena promised, and the food is to die for. They eat beef ribs with their hands, moaning every mouthful because fuck, those people know their way around meat. They’re tipsy from drinking too many beers and end up playing footsie under the table like a couple of teenagers on a date.

After a second round of pecan cobbler that Buck probably shouldn’t indulge with but needed desperately, Eddie throws napkins at his face, eyes crinkling from laughing so much.

“You still have so much BBQ sauce all over your mouth. You eat like a pig.”

Buck laughs, “whatever, food’s too good.” He wipes his mouth and gestures at his face. “All right?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, taking another napkin to dab at Buck’s chin himself, looking way too fond. “Now I won’t taste BBQ sauce when I kiss you.”

“Ooooh, _kinky_.”

“Don’t.”

“Fiiiiine,” he drags as he looks around for a waiter so he can ask for the check.

  
  


They’re about to leave when a man in his forties that doesn’t wear the restaurant staff shirt comes to their table. Buck must be a little bit drunk, or a little bit too in love and happy because he doesn’t recognize the man’s expression for what it is before he addresses them.

“You should go,” the man, says, tone like a bucket of icy water on Buck’s head. “We don’t need your kind in here.”

Ten second ago, Buck and Eddie had been giggling, now the silence at their table is ringing around his ears. He’s distantly aware that the music is still as loud as it was before the man spoke, but- it’s like he’s been kicked somewhere else. 

(It smells like snow. _Buck hates snow_ )

He takes a deep breath, slamming back in his body. From the corner of his eye, he can see that most of the other patrons are too busy with their own lives or too far away to pay attention, but a few closest to their table aren’t. 

And Eddie… Eddie looks absolutely gobsmacked by the difference between knowing about homophobia, and actually being targeted.

“I said your kind-”

“Firefighters?” Buck asks the man, willfully obtuse. He’s not playing this game tonight. He knows it will always be rigged.

Across from him, Eddie makes a strangled sound.

The man continues, “My kids shouldn’t have to see, you -”

“Oh man, kids love us,” Buck cuts, fake cheeriness running out but he carries on, “I think it's the red trucks, you know, and the loud sirens? And the funny helmets. You guys should swing by any station, LAFD is always happy to-”

“FUCKING HOMOSEXUALS!”

And that’s for defusing the situation and leaving before it can get worse.

The man is panting now, free of the words he so dearly wanted to let out. Buck doesn’t need to look to know the entire restaurant is turned toward them.

“Leviticus eighteen, _you shall not lie with a male as with a_ -”

Buck gets up, chair rattling behind him, letting his 6ft2 towers over the fucker. “What did you not understand about me telling you I’m a fucking firefighter?”

The man -if you could really call him that- shrivels, but somehow finds it in himself to continue the quote, even if his eyes are now level somewhere under Buck’s chin.

“Sir, please would you-”

Buck half turns to the staff members that have flocked to them and the guy in the manager shirt that is helming this. “We’re going,” he says curtly to them. There's no winning to this shit, no peace, no break-

“ _Actually_ I was about to ask this sir to leave with his family,” a woman in her fifties says, and she must be the owner, cause the staff looks at her in deference, the manager quickly getting out of her way.

The man looks at her in outrage “Me? _Why?_ ”

“Because It’s a free country and if you’re free to be a cunt, I sure am free to kick you out.”

Buck’s eyebrows shoot up. _Uh. Now that’s unexpected._

The man is escorted back to his table by staff members and with much grumbling from him and his wife, his family leave, slamming the door.

“You alright?” the owner asks both him and Eddie.

“I guess. Thanks for- that,” Buck manages to say.

“No sweat, hon. Didn’t bring my family here to get that holier-than-thou attitude in my own establishment.” She gestures at a younger woman beside her, that’s wearing a staff shirt. “My Dany’s gay. You wouldn’t know any single firefighter looking for a girlfriend? She likes redheads.”

“Oh my god Ma!” The girl gets beet red and pushes her mother away, but the older woman cackles away, gesturing at Buck to give her a call.

He laughs, turning back to Eddie- who’s still frozen on his chair, knuckles white with how hard he’s gripping the edge of the table.

Buck closes the distance between them, suddenly panicking. “Hey Eddie, are you-”

“Let’s- go. Okay?”

“Sure, sure. We could use the fresh air.”

When they get out of the restaurant, Eddie’s just a line of tension beside Buck, eyes firmly fixed ahead. 

He doesn’t take Buck’s hand.

  
  


The neighborhood is animated, music drifting from bars and restaurants and descending from apartments above, Saturday night truly taking off, with people screaming and laughing and everywhere, everywhere around them, raucous laughter.

It should be them and Buck hates all those people that bump into them, that are having a blast. All of it just highlights how wrong the evening has turned.

“Eddie, please talk to me,” Buck begs when they get close to the Jeep without a word between them for several minutes now, his hands stinging from the tension in them and heart in his throat.

(He can’t do this again. He can’t. _He can’t_ )

Eddie blinks a few times, like waking up. His eyes focus on Buck, shame filing them quickly. “I’m sorry,” he says, slumping against the Jeep for support.

“What? Why are you- you don’t-” and fuck, now he’s reduced to a stammering mess. 

( _Eighteen again, bare feet in snow. Twenty two again, hard sun on his back, burning his neck_ )

“For saying nothing-” Eddie… apologizes? _What._ “I just sat there and I was so angry and if I had opened my mouth I would have ended up hitting him- that’s all I wanted, to fucking destroy him and- and I let you defend us because I didn’t know what-”

“Hey hey Eddie,” he places his hands on Eddie’s shoulders, trying to soothe the tension out of them, wanting nothing more to engulf him in a hug, but he needs to see Eddie’s face for this. “It- it sucks okay. It enrages me too and I- I wish I could tell you it’s never gonna happen again, but I would be lying. But I have your back.”

“And- and I got yours,” Eddie says on automatic, natural and perfect and everything Buck ever wanted, _someone that says it back_ . “It’s just- I’m not a stranger to discrimination, okay?” he continues. “I guess I was so caught in how happy I am with you I didn’t realize the world was still turning wrong with people like- like _him.._.”

Buck freezes. He had this conversation before, sun burning his neck.

( _“You’re just a nobody going nowhere, and I’m done being stupid about you, Evan.”_ )

“Buck? _Buck?_ ”

He detaches his hands from Eddie, letting his hands fall to his side, before he takes a step back away from him and the Jeep, practically knocking a passerby down with how careless he is.

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologizes profusely to the guy, that just tells him to get fucked. To Eddie he asks, “What?”

“Where did you go?”

“Nowhere, it’s just- it rattles a lot inside shit like that,” he dismisses, gesturing vaguely at the direction of the restaurant. “Listen Eddie, if you can’t take this you might-”

“Buck-”

“-as well end things now, cause-” he persists, feeling the pinprick of tears in his eyes.

“ _What the fuck are you talking about?_ ” Eddie shouts, effectively cutting him.

Buck looks away, but Eddie’s right there, doing _that damn thing_ when he refuses for Buck to break eye contact, chasing after him, hands on his neck and cheek.

“It’s him, isn’t it? The _he_ you told me about when you came out to me.”

Buck closes his eyes, eighteen again. Twenty two again. He never elaborated to Eddie, not even gave him a name. He didn’t want to give Eddie ideas, didn’t want to give him more proof that Buck’s only good for a short while, that Eddie would be better off leaving him like all the others did before.

But when he opens his eyes, Eddie’s still there, still looking right at him, still holding him. 

“I’m not leaving you because that asshole was a homophobe to us. I am not leaving you, period. _I love you_.”

Buck takes a deep breath. “He was… _he_ left me for that. Couldn’t take… this.”

“Yeah. I’m getting that,” Eddie says, opinion clear on his face. “I was angry. And shaken. And I’ll be again, I’m not pretending I won’t be. But I’m not leaving you.”

“Okay.”

Eddie chuckles, shaking his head, before giving Buck a small, encouraging smile. “With some faith this time?” 

It’s Buck’s turn to snort. “You’re not leaving me.”

Eddie nods, hand so, so warm on his cheek, grounding. “Are you leaving me?” he asks, one eyebrow raised.

“What? _No!_ ” Buck half shouts, outrage and confusion mixing.

“Good. _Fantastic_. Look at us agreeing on shit and communicating,” Eddie says, missing the mark on the causal tone he was trying for. There’s too much relief in his voice, on his face, on the way his fingers are digging in the back of Buck’s neck, keeping him close. He forces a laugh. “Frank is going to give me a gold star sticker for this.”

Buck frowns. “You talk about me to your therapist?”

“Not even gonna question the sticker? Okay. Of course I talk about you with Frank. He’s really glad I’ve one adult relationship that isn’t based on a wrapped sense of duty and guilt. He thinks you're good for me.”

Buck stares at him for a moment, mouth gaping. “Uuuh- and what do you think?”

“I know you’re good for me, Evan. And that you’re worth it.”

Buck… Buck melts. He’s too needy, he knows. Always seeking reassurance, always starving for approval, for attention, for love. Even the wrong kind. And he melts against Eddie, letting him carry the weight for a moment, hugging him for dear life. “You’re not so bad yourself,” he ends up sniffling in his neck. “And you smell good.”

“ _God you’re such a little shit_. I love you.”

“GET A ROOM YOU TWO!” Someone shouts from across the street, and they tense, _of course they tense_ , but when Buck looks up, the buffest drag queen Buck has ever seen blows a kiss at them and continues on her way down the street.

He snorts, before turning back to Eddie, who’s also smiling a little. “I love you too. Do you- do you want to go home or-”

Eddie shakes his head, resolute. “I’m not surrendering my night with you to that asshole. Let’s- let’s take a walk. We drank. We fought. Kinda. So let’s walk a bit and then if you want we can go home or go dancing or whatever, we can do that,” he rambles, peppering a few kisses on Buck’s chin when he’s done. “Still tastes like BBQ sauce,” he marvels, stroking his cheek with his thumb.

 _Precious_. That’s what he feels like when he’s with Eddie. 

“Okay.” Buck exhales, feeling lightheaded by relief. He gets to keep this, keep Eddie for another day. “Let's take a walk.”

And Eddie takes his hand, squeezing it lightly, before detaching himself from the Jeep. He looks around, asking which way with his eyebrows.

“Whatever, I don’t care as long as you’re there too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: a man accosts them during their dinner and uses homophobic language but is shut down by the owner of the bbq place


	3. 00:16 am

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you @unhealthy-amount-of-obsession on tumblr who held my hand through this you're such a bae

The club is so loud and packed Buck regrets saying he was up for it for a moment, overwhelmed.

Memories associated with places like this one aren’t his fondest. Buck 1.0’s Tinder account had been an extension of his dick, but getting hammered in a club had been a close second. _Real close_. He used to love this shit, getting lost in bodies he didn’t care about, let himself be picked by whatever girl cared about his, and do whatever. Buck 1.0 had never played hard to get, never had to really dance, just drank enough to feel good and waited by the bar or any sitting area, before following where the wind blew him.

It had been the kind of uncomplicated fun he had needed. Safe too, from hurt and disappointment. One night stands didn’t leave you shattered, and Buck rarely disappointed any of them because sex was something he had always been good at.

(He still wishes Bobby had understood that and not reduced his foolproof defence mechanism to being an immature slut. Perhaps he needs to talk with him again. Explain better, now that he’s a little more steady and has the emotional vocabulary for it. Now of course, there’s the matter of Bobby being ready to listen) 

But this is not the same, this is _him and Eddie_ , not some stranger he won’t remember in the morning. This is fun in different ways, in forever ways. The last shreds of tension and shame melt away when Eddie gets into his space, hands on his waist and biting his lip, looking at him with a mix of want, amusement and fondness.

“Want those drinks first?” Eddie asks, surveying the club, the bar and the dancing areas.

“Better not. I’m gonna embarrass myself enough without those! I’ll need that drink when you dump me for someone that can-”

“I’m gonna teach ya!” Eddie shouts to him above the music, very enthusiastic grin full of teeth and _oh God_ , Buck has a thing with Eddie smiling with all his teeth like he’s ready to bite into him. 

Buck shakes his head and nods along at the same time, confused, knowing he’s hopeless but Eddie’s confidence is just… so attractive it’s impossible not to smile back at him and agree to whatever he says as Eddie’s big, capable hands settle firmly on his hips to guide him. 

  
  


Buck is a terrible dancer -‘cause dancing is sooooo not the same as sex, _fuck you Eddie_.

He has lost count at the number of times he stepped on Eddie’s toes or his awkward elbows have stuck someone around them. Not that they seem to care; everyone's a little too drunk and happy on this fine Saturday night to bother starting a fight with the buff giraffe that makes dancing looks… painful.

More importantly, Eddie doesn’t seem to mind, not one bit, shaking his head and smiling, eyes bright with happiness, but unclouded by alcohol.

Of course _he_ knows how to dance, he’s all hips and hands and mouth, biting his lip as he works his hands up Buck’s torso, before tugging at his collar to kiss him, all tongue and some teeth and- _fuck, this is so. Fucking. Hot._ They’re both so hard against each other, have been for hours, and it’s driving Buck’s mad. 

When their mouths part, Eddie begins to unbutton Buck’s shirt, leaving only half of them on in a very, very hot reversal of what he did in the loft earlier, eyes focused on the slowly revealed skin in the flashy neon lights.

It’s too much, and Buck’s brain is a soup of lust, the only emerging thoughts related to Eddie, _Eddie_ , Eddie’s hands, his eyes, the way his shirt is drenched in sweat against his back under Buck’s hands, his little puffs of breath against Buck’s neck, the strands of floofy hair beginning to fall on his forehead… he’s so beautiful and kissable and-

 _Buck can kiss him._ It still blows his fucking head off. He can kiss Eddie Diaz as much as he wants.

He ends up pecking him on the tip of the nose, because it always gets Eddie a little cross eyed, like surprised. His mouth is still slack when Buck kisses it a second later, savage and demanding and it takes Eddie a second or two to get back to that lust. He kisses back with the same heat, tongue and teeth and hands in both their hair.

_Starving._

Eddie’s hips never leave Buck’s and at this point of the night, it’s getting really hard - _ah_ \- to not just hauls him around against one of the walls of the club and rub it off against each other until they come like horny teenagers. Eddie likes to be fucked like that sometimes, against walls and doors, his legs around Buck’s hips, edging Buck to _please go harder_ , arms around his neck and coming unravelled at the seams, close to worshiping, a flood of praises and throaty moans pouring out of him, for Buck’s arms, his legs, _his strength_ … and really, it’s not like they would be the only couple indulging in more than making out against the walls here.

But there is a bet- _no, a challenge!_ and Buck likes winning as much as Eddie does, neither of them seem ready to relent despite the desperation between them getting worse with every passing second and teasing touch.

  
  


Buck doesn’t know how long they’ve been here, songs melting in the next, confusing him. He’s drunk on Eddie’s closeness, which never helps. One hour? Two? _Three?_ He can’t think. Long enough for his feet to be tired and for his dick to be weeping with frustration. 

Eddie takes his hand, fingers laced together and sweaty, and walks them to a secluded area with determination, pushing people out of their way without a care in the world. 

Buck’s cracks a big smile because _he won and fuck_ , he’s getting debauched in a few- Eddie pushes him down on a couch, but stays standing beside him.

_And no, that’s not what-_

Buck tugs Eddie down, forcing him to half kneel with him, before he starts nuzzling the side of his face, tongue darting against his neck, tasting his salty skin, hungry for more. He bites down a little, working a small bruise on Eddie’s neck. They’re both drenched and panting, heat a physical, animalistic weight on them, in them. The last time Buck was this frustrated, they were waiting for Chris’ bedtime all afternoon, stealing kisses and copping feels, skin buzzing with excitement and need. 

_I want- I want-_ shit, even his thoughts are dripping out of him down his pants.

“Stay- _fuck, Buck, stop that!_ Stay here! I’m gonna go get us something to drink okay?” Eddie shouts.

He pushes him away, against the backrest, kissing the breath out of him, and Buck just loves the taste of him, the desperation and want and Eddie let himself be tugged into Buck’s lap for a while despite his words, whatever he wanted to do forgotten, too happy to grind himself on top of Buck’s dick.

Until Buck’s hand finds its way to the front of his jeans to cup his constrained dick and _squeezes_ . The moans that trashes out of Eddie’s throat are almost audible above the music pounding around them and Buck kisses him harder, swallowing them down, his other hand on his ass, thumb brushing the sweaty skin just above his waistband. He wants skin, he wants Eddie naked, above or under him he doesn’t fucking care, _but it’s gotta be soon_.

Eddie shoots up like Buck burned him, shaking his head and gesturing toward the vague direction of the bar. Perhaps he says “I’m gonna get-”, but Buck really is guessing, only seeing his lips move, only wishing them back on him, around him.

Buck nods sadly, slapping Eddie’s ass as he passes him.

Left alone, he closes his eyes, breathing deep, calming himself, trying to will down his hard on, but everything is too loud, too hot. His heart beat isn’t his own right now, just another bass in the music, just another shout, and everything is screaming for Eddie to come back and stop playing around, because Buck is losing it.

Suddenly, he’s surrounded by giggles and that’s… not good.

He opens his eyes to find five women looking at him with drunken lust and glazed-over eyes. Before he can say something, they’re sitting down, surrounding him, the drinks in their hands dangerously sloshing on themselves, the couches and the floor and they don’t wait to shout questions and talk over his answers and each other.

“Do you want to go to the bathroom?” one of them in a blue crop top shouts in his ear, making him wince and scoot away as far from her as he can. 

He manages to avoid her wandering hand on his thigh by a hair… only to put himself in reaching distance of another woman. And that one, he has to peel off her hand from his bicep.

“No, I’m good,” he shouts back at Crop Top, _at all of them,_ shaking his head to make sure his feelings on the subject are clear despite the music and their inebriated state.

He wants nothing more than to leave the sitting area, but he can take the chance of missing Eddie and spending the next hour trying to find his boyfriend in this madness.

The one that proposed him pouts, before her eyes settle on something behind him and at first he thinks she’s zoning out, but if it’s the case, she’s currently undressing the distant void while pushing her cleavage in evidence, crop top as low as it can get. In a matter of seconds, the entire group is doing the same, smiling and playing with their hair.

He knows who got back with their drinks before he turns around, because there’s one man that never fails to attract every woman is a twenty miles radius, and it’s his boyfriend. Buck should feel happy not to be the focus of their attention anymore, but Eddie’s not the only one that sees green from time to time -and now he has all the right in the world for it.

(He needs more hickeys on Eddie’s neck and fuck Bobby and the respect of the uniform. Possibly a ring. _Shit, no, that’s too soon_. But that’s the plan anyway. Someday)

His relief at Eddie’s return is short-lived, turning into concern when he sees the way Eddie’s face is all pinched, hands holding the ridiculous cocktails he’s carrying wayyyy too tight.

(They both have so many abandonment and inadequacy issues between the two of them it’s… a bit ridiculous. And Sad. They need to work on that too)

“Is this your friend?!” one of the less drunk girls shouts at Buck, “He’s cute! You think he wanna go to the bathroom?”

Buck’s pretty sure he growls at her. If someone is getting fucked in a bathroom by Eddie, _it’s him._

Eddie stares at her, frown so deep it’s comical. “I’m not his friend,” Eddie yells back over the music, offended.

Buck gestures for Eddie to come sit _and now_ , taking the glasses from him when he does so, and puts them down on the table. 

Eddie… _Eddie has to squeeze between one woman and Buck_ to sit, that’s how surrounded Buck was, like the purest, innocent gazelle getting tagged teamed by a bunch of lionesses. He casts the group a thunderous look, arm immediately coming around Buck’s shoulders, hand under his disheveled shirt collar and nails digging in his feverish skin. Buck sinks against him, oh so happy to be _claimed._

(In his pants, Buck’s dick twitches)

And he can see, _fuck_ , he can see Eddie’s smug smile forming on his face, the way he relaxes against him, knowing he’s got Buck wrapped around his finger.

“I can-” the woman stops, looking like she is going to be sick, Buck already wincing at the mess and the smell. Somehow, she keeps it down, but Crop Top, the one that proposed him first speaks up, cutting her friends.

“I can sooo do you boooooth!” she shares enthusiastically, nodding so hard she loses her balances and falls on her friend, the content of her glass ending on both of them.

Buck’s about to say _no thank you_ again, but Eddie’s faster, using his free hand to grab at Buck’s chin to turn his face toward him, gives him A Look, just a second, just long enough for Buck to near come in his pants by the intensity of it, before smashing their mouths together, kissing him like mad.

“You think you need someone else?” he asks when he detaches their mouths, still firmly holding his chin, thumb stroking his cheek, and the fucker… the fucker is smirking.

Buck’s left light headed by it, hands fisted in Eddie’s shirt, bunching up the red fabric. _Why are you so fucking far away?_ He wants to shout. _Or stop kissing me?_

He can just shake his head, answer obvious, before he goes back for another kiss, needing more from Eddie, needing everything he can give, _and then some_.

( _I’m yours, I’m not running off, you’re enough, you’re everything_ he promises, using his lips and his tongue to morse the words on Eddie’s mouth, drill them into his skull and his heart, because he’s not stupid and he knows that Eddie’s possessiveness stems from his insecurities)

He lets the women draw their own conclusions, doesn't care really, world reduced to Eddie’s pleased little sounds he can’t really hear, but feels against his lips, too busy letting Eddie maul him now that he’s reassured. 

When they resurface from the kiss, the group’s gone and has stolen their drinks.

“Now that is just petty,” Buck mutters as Eddie’s mouth drifts from his chin, up his jaw to his ear, down the column of his neck, lavishing his exposed collarbone with his tongue, descending a inch lower and biting at his tattoo and Buck cannot wait to see that bruise in the morning.

“Let’s go back!” Eddie says, tugging him up, marching them through the sweaty crowd to the bar for some water. “I’m not letting you out of my sight anymore!”

That works just fine for Buck.

  
  


After that, they dance for hours and it’s great even if Buck’s terrible, laughing and swaying and grinding together, Buck not sure where he ends and Eddie begins. It’s an exquisite feeling. The music is so loud he can’t think straight, the bass like a second heartbeat, an earthquake underneath him making the floor tremble with hundreds and hundreds of feet pounding it as the night gets away from them and the club goes from full to dangerously packed.

Suddenly Eddie detaches himself from him and Buck _whines_ , the sound lost in the beats of that _Boyfriend_ song that he loves to annoy Eddie with in the Jeep, but right now Eddie seems into it. He turns him around and it gets so much worse and _so, so much better_ , because now Eddie’s plastered all over his back, constricted dick grinding against Buck’s ass.

He can feel Eddie’s mouth moving against his neck. No need to hear him to guess the filth of words being poured and kissed and bitten against his overheated skin, he hears them enough when Eddie’s making love to him.

And in that moment, Buck doesn’t care about losing, because at this, _with Eddie_ , it’s not really losing.

 _Fuck it_ , he thinks, grinding back against Eddie, feeling the shape of his smile widen as he does so.

Buck’s hand finds the one holding his right hip and grabs at it and then he power walks them through the crowd, too- _too damn something_ to wait any longer. He doesn’t care to be careful, doesn’t care about saying _excuse me_ to people that can’t hear him, doesn’t care he’s pushing them out of his way like an asshole, dragging Eddie along, needing him too much. 

When they exit the club, it’s like getting punched by the crisp LA night air, the change of temperature so dramatic Buck shivers in his sweaty shirt.

He stops dead, panting and overwhelmed. 

Eddie slams into him from behind. “ _You okay?_ ” and fuck, can he not- can he not sound as wrecked? as hungry? Because Buck is only holding on by a thread here...

“Fuck yeah,” he breaths, turning around and taking Eddie’s head in his hands, smashing their mouths together for a searing kiss.

After the deafening music in the club, the street they’re in might as well be silent and _fuck_ , Buck missed all the wonderful sounds Eddie makes when they’re kissing like this.

Several people wolf whistle around them and they both tense. The street isn’t the same as the club, not as safe, especially after what happened at the BBQ place, but like Eddie said, he’s not giving up on this night because of fear. Buck soothes his hands on Eddie’s shoulders and neck, working the stiffness away.

“Wanna go home?” Buck breaths, kissing him again and again and again, rubbing their noses together, desperate to rub another part of him on Eddie.

“Yeah yeah-” Eddie agrees breathless and blissed out, before he evades another kiss, “ _wait, I’m- winning right?_ ” 

And Eddie’s smug grin? The way his eyes are stuck on Buck’s mouth and the heat in them? Such a panty dropper. Or in this case, boxer brief.

Buck laughs, ‘cause they’re so made for each other, so alike.

“God yes, you’re winning, you fucking asshole,” he says, draging him to the direction where they parked the Jeep, and it’s not the first time Buck wishes he could teleport, but damn if now wouldn’t be the best moment to found out it had that superpower, “I can’t take this anymore, so let’s fucking go!”

“ _Man I LOVE WINNING!_ ” Eddie hollers behind him, and Buck’s heart swells, because to get Eddie so carefree and loud and happy is the best.

“Shut it!” he orders, but he’s incapable of resisting going down for another kiss when Eddie laughs so much he stops moving, one hand on his belly, tears in his eyes. “You rigged it!” he complains against his lips, “you know I’m helpless against you!”

“Oh yeah, ‘ts like taking candy from a baby except- _Evan_. I’m five minutes away from coming down my pants. If you hadn’t yielded, I would have. You get me so fucking insane,” Eddie confesses, pushing him against the Jeep front door, one hand coming to Buck’s belt buckle, tugging playfully at it.

“So it’s a tie?” Buck says, opening his legs to let Eddie closer, so much closer, just a few layers of dumb clothes away.

“No, no, _I win_ ,” Eddie assures him. “And I get to fuck you.”

Buck rolls his eyes, blushing hard. “You can get that whenever.”

“I get to bring you back here to dance… next week?” And Eddie’s so cute, so radiant Buck sighs in adoration at him.

He still feigns thinking about it, having a rep as a brat to defend. “You just want an excuse to show off,” he shrugs.

Eddie shakes his head, eyes too much, but Buck knows better than to look away. “ _I just want you like this_.”

Buck clears his throat, heat messing with his head. “ _Fu- you’re such an ass._ Let’s fucking go home before my dick falls off.”

And in an effort that is clearly inhuman, Buck pushes Eddie from him and unlocks his car, Eddie’s quiet laughs rounding the Jeep as he climbs behind the wheel.

“You’re so damn proud of you,” he accuses when Eddie has fastened his seat belt.

Eddie smirks, pushing the strand of hair away from his sweaty forehead, knowing what he's doing to Buck all to well. “Fuck yeah I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 😳😳😳😳😳 now i wonder...... what kind of himbo decision... these two...... are going to make next???


	4. 4:03 am

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [here's a lil playlist to go with](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7yf1RSVwvrKbH1ito03yUl?si=iQ6y2wNMQ1ebOncFGagkGA)

They don’t make it back to Buck’s loft.

It’s not a surprise, with the way Eddie keeps his thighs open and Buck’s hand keeps finding its way to the left one, fingers digging _in_. Everytime they hit a red light, Buck’s hand gets a little higher, rubbing at the inner seam of Eddie’s jeans, and finally on his zipper, pushing the heel of his hand against the bulge underneath, Eddie’s little groans like a siren song.

 _Thank God his jeep is an automatic_ . Driving a stick shift with Eddie looking like _that_ on the passenger seat would be too much torture even for Buck. Though to be fair, he’s not sure touching him is actually a good or bad thing, ‘cause it only gets him more worked up.

He glances at the GPS screen on the dashboard. There’s still twenty minutes between them and the loft.

“ _Why the fuck you picked a club so far away from my place?_ ” he complains, doing his best to keep it together.

“I don’t know, okay?” Eddie fires back. O _h, this is grand, this is AMAZING!_ He’s getting frustrated too, rubbing at his face, messing up his hair even more than Buck did already, biting his lip, hips pushing against Buck’s hand, as needy as he is. “Fucking pull over.”

Buck makes a double take at him, his pinched face bathed in the dreamlike yellow of the street lights, and the Jeep swerves too close to the curb before he rectifies the wheel, heart in his throat. “Fuck. What-” did Eddie seriously-

“Pull. _The fuck. Over_ ,” Eddie orders.

Buck shakes his head, eyes wide. _Eddie has lost it_. 

“What happened to not getting arrested, not even for my ass?” he mimics, both hands firmly on the wheel now. His eyes though… checking the street, checking his GPS for a secluded-

 _Oh my god, we’re so getting arrested_.

(Not that it will be the first time Buck gets in trouble for fucking someone in the backseat of his car, but he’s _floored_ Eddie’s the one that snapped out of the two of them)

Eddie has the audacity to scoff. “This is your fault!”

“HOW IS THAT MY FAULT?” Buck screams back. _Shit shit shit_ , now _he_ ’s losing it. “You picked the club! And you went all-” he shimmies his hips on the seat, groaning when it increases the pressure of the zipper on his hard on, “hips and stuff on me! This was rigged from the start and _so. your. Fault!_ ”

Buck’s the victim here!

“Hips and stuff?” Eddie shakes his head, mouth agape and widely gesturing with his hands. “Yeah I’m gonna go all hips and stuff on you. WHEN YOU PULL OVER!”

“I’m not pulling over Eddie, this is-” the words die on his lips, because they just passed an empty looking parking lot and Eddie’s head wipes around to check it out, and _he whines_ when Buck continues driving.

_Fuck._

He wishes he could say he went crazy for a moment, that he lost his ability to think, that it was some kind of possession or some shit… but he very purposefully checks his rear mirror, very consciously puts his hand on the gear stick, hits the brakes and passes into reverse, startling Eddie into a yelp. He backs out all the way to the deserted 7-11’s parking lot, finding a spot away from the road, but not too close to the store. Jesus, he doesn’t even have the excuse of being drunk or being a dumb teenager _._

_Fuck me._

“Fuck you,” he hisses as Eddie looks at him in surprise when he puts the Jeep into park, cranks the handbrake and shuts down the engine.

“No no no, you got it wrong Evan, fuck you,” Eddie promises and _God_ , Buck is in love with an asshole and that’s okay he guesses, because Eddie’s hands are on his collar, tugging him to him over the gear stick for a searing kiss.

“Belts,” Buck mutters against his lips, “fucking belts.” 

He blindly fiddles with his, and it’s so stupidly hard, because his brain is fried and fine motor control is gone and Eddie is making it so, so much worse. After he fights and jabs his belt buckle into submission, he manages to get Eddie’s, releasing them both.

“Backseat,” Eddie orders and, yeah, that’s Buck’s dick twitching in his jeans at being bossed around. “ _Now_.”

And because he’s a brat, Buck looks back at him, not moving an inch from his seat. “Make. Me.”

Eddie squints his eyes at him, shocked by the audacity of Buck being a little shit like he doesn’t know him at all. “Oh, you want to play it like that?”

“We’ve been playing it like that all night,” Buck shrugs, licking his bottom lip.

“Yeah, guess I need to step up my game,” Eddie taunts.

And he- he- Buck stares at him in outrage when he steps off the Jeep -so fucking smug Buck feels faint- closes the door gently, and _unhurriedly_ makes his way to the rear door, stretching his arms and rolling his head on his shoulders, before he climbs into the backseat, giving Buck _A Look_ as he sprawls comfortably back there, legs wide open and-

He unbuckles his leather belt, before he opens his jeans, groaning in relief.

“The fuck you’re doing?” Buck asks, mouth so dry.

Eddie doesn’t even answer him, just begins to rub at his erection through his underwear and that’s just fucking unfair because _that’s something Buck would do._ Not Eddie who’s the adult, who’s the one that says _no, that’s stupid, let’s not_ , the one that keeps himself and Buck under control, the one that said _you won’t steal our uniforms so you can have your way with firefighter Diaz you kinky little shit_. He’s not the one playing and wiggling his eyebrows, not the one that teases endlessly until the other snaps or the one that sends nudes all day, that plays dirty. And certainly not the one Buck would have thought would initiated car sex out of the two of them.

(Not that Buck’s complaining, but-)

Eddie is having the time of his life, pushing his underwear out of the way, his dick springing against his red shirt in all its glory, precome droplets staining the fabric, and Buck goes a little cross-eyed, tongue darting out. He needs to lick that. _Now._ Some kind of pathetic moan escapes him, and that when Eddie begins to jack himself off lazily, like he has aaaaall the time in the world and they’re not in a fucking parking lot.

“Fucking hell. I hate you, I hate you so fucking much!” Buck mutters, opening his door and slamming it shut. He takes a few calming breaths, hands on the roof, spying on Eddie grinning at him through the window. “ _Fuck it_.”

He has the rear door open when he swears again, slams it, and reopens his own door, puts one knee on his seat and stretches over the length of the two front seats to open the glove box to retrieve a condom and a packet of lube, and throws them at the vague direction of Eddie’s laughing face.

When he gets into the backseat, Eddie’s still smiling hungrily, one hand on his dick, the other holding the two foil packets.

“Only need that one now,” he says, letting the condom drop on the seat. In the dim light of the car, he looks so beautiful, like a fever dream somehow came true, painted in steel greys and distant yellows. “I mean unless-”

“No no, no take backs,” Buck says in a hurry, grabbing at him, at his face and smashing them together so he can fucking kiss his boyfriend stupid.

Thank God the Jeep backseat is a lot more spacious than the Camaro ever was, because Buck grew an entire foot since senior year and the last time he ended up on a guy’s lap.

(Really, the fact he and Hayden didn’t get caught making out before it happened was some kind of miracle, but Buck shakes his head, forbidding his head to go there. He’s not eighteen anymore, he’s not hiding this, not hiding Eddie, not fearing his parents would take this away from him too. _This is his to keep_ )

Somehow he manages to take off one leg of his jeans, and does the same to his underwear. 

Eddie chuckles in his neck, abandoning his own dick for Buck’s. “Eager, eh?” he mocks fondly as he cracks the windows open a little.

Buck just whines back at him, dignity forgotten, because fireworks explode at the back of his head the second Eddie’s hand gets to work, his eyes rolling in his orbits.

“ _Fuuuuuck_.”

He’s pushed around and tugged until he’s squarely on Eddie’s lap, his head dangerously brushing the roof, Eddie looking up at him with… with goddamn _reverence_ on his face and it’s too much, way too much and Buck has to close his eyes.

“No no, _mi amor_ , _you’ll look at me while I’ll open you up_ ,” Eddie reminds him, hands rucking up his shirt on his waist, fingers trailing fire on his skin. His voice is soft, but the hunger in it... it makes Buck shivers. “You’ll fucking know it’s me-”

Buck opens his eyes and shit, it’s only been a month, just a month of this and he’s already so wrapped up around Eddie, it can’t be healthy. _His_ , completely. Fucking shit. “I know- I want-”

“I know what you want, Evan,” he whispers, before kissing him. It’s the same kiss that fried Buck’s brain back at the loft earlier, achingly sweet and tender, like Buck is precious to him beyond reason; and even like this, even with his legs wide open and so ready to get fucked, Eddie still loves him so much more than he lusts after him. “I’m gonna make you feel so good,” Eddie promises, reaping the lube packet and spreading its content on his fingers.

And he does, fingers finding his entrance with ease, opening him up slowly and then, not so slowly when Buck urges him to get a move on. Buck bumps his head pretty hard against the roof when Eddie finds his prostate.

“P- _Please, Eddie, please_ ,” he begs, not caring about knocking his head, or the way his left leg feels like cramping is more than an option.

It’s a blur after that, of moans and hands and Eddie’s mouthing at his neck, of Buck’s trembling hands when he opens his shirt to give him better access to his collarbones, lavishing his chest with his tongue and sucking bruises after bruises on his skin, while his fingers get Buck ready. 

It’s maddening, and Buck’s patience isn’t that great, so he cards his fingers in Eddie’s hair and tugs him away from his chest. Eddie keens, and Buck puts his mouth against his ear, tongue darting out.

“You should fuck me now before I lose patience and I step out of the car to find someone that will-”

And it's a lie of course, such a lie and an obvious one at that, but Eddie still growls like he believes it, still manhandles him with firms hands so he's not sitting on his lap, instead standing on his knees on either sides of Eddie so he can moves his ass lower on the seat and have the space to fuck into Buck.

 _God_ that possessive streak in him is so delectable, so perfect and Buck is so smug to be the one that gets Eddie so crazy, to be the one that's wanted so fucking much.

"Fuck yeah," Buck gasps when he feels Eddie's hand part his ass cheeks and the head of his dick prod at his opening. " _C'mon_."

And before he knows it, Eddie's ball deep, neither of them having any kind of restrain left, Eddie shoving up, Buck shoving down and their mouths meet in a kiss as violent as their hips, swallowing each other moans. 

Buck had sex bareback before -only as the one doing the fucking sure, but he knows how good it is, how much closer it feels and going by Eddie's beatific expression, he’s feeling the difference in fucking Buck like that as well.

He can't wait to fuck Eddie like that too.

“Someone that will what?” Eddie edges, still on that. “Eh, Evan? Someone that will what? Make love to you that good? Those girls at the club couldn’t have done that,” and his hips snap up and they've been doing this long enough that he finds Buck's prostate on the second trust, shattering him, violent pleasure coursing through Buck.

(But for a second, for a terrible second, all Buck can hear is Hayden echoing Eddie’s words, or rather the echo of Hayden’s words in Eddie’s. The way he rolled his eyes and mocked Buck. “Do they even know what to do with you, all those stupid girls you fuck around with?” before he had pushed Buck against his bedroom door and kissed him for the first time. “‘cause I do. And I'm so stupid about you.”

He manages to shake him out of his head. He’s not letting a ten year old heartache ruin him again, or take this moment with Eddie away from him. _Buck’s not dead weight_ , he’s not an inconvenience. And Eddie’s certainly not Hayden)

He puts one of his arm around Eddie's neck, his other hand griping the head rest for leverage and his body gets away from him, fucking itself on Eddie, rolling his hips and when Eddie's hand snakes between them to jerk him off, he loses it, reduced to a quivering mess, mumbling against Eddie's temple, begging and begging for more.

Eddie's no better, rambling against his neck so low Buck can only make out a few words, the rest lost in groans. His left hand is holding Buck’s ass cheek so hard it will mark.

He’s getting so, so close when headlights burn Buck's eyes and he swears, panicking, but Eddie topples them across the length of the backseat so quick Buck's head swings for a moment.

They’re left giggling, trying to shush the other despite the very seriousness of the situation and the mess they'll be in if they're caught. Hell, it doesn’t stop Eddie to continue to fuck into him, no sir. It shouldn’t be this hot. His trusts are shallow now because of the awkward position, hitting all the right spots in the worst way: enough that Buck feels them, but too weak to make him come. Torture. _This is torture_. And Buck, Buck is so weak for him, for this, that Buck nuzzles the side of his face, begging, whining his name like a prayer in the dark, overheated backseat of his own Jeep.

“ _Eddie please, I need-_ ”

He grunts, and to his credits, he tries to give it to him like this, hips picking up, but still not enough, _fuck_ , Buck is going to die-

A car park near them, but not too dangerously close.

They can hear stupid ass Generic Pop Song of the Week blaring. _No cop then_. They both sigh in relief when what sounds like a group of guys exits the car, their raucous laughing and shouts getting farther and farther within a minute.

"Think we're good?" Eddie asks, and _fuck yes_ , he sounds as desperate as Buck to finish this.

Buck nods, dick painful, and they manage to get upright again. Eddie slides fully in him, making them both groan and moan, and Buck goes at it with abandon, breathless, clenching and rolling his ass until Eddie squeezes his dick shy of too hard, mouth and teeth clamping on his pulse point and he's gone, eyes rolling back into his orbits and coming all over them both, ruining both their shirts, mind whiting out, quiet, as he shouts his release.

The second he comes back to himself, Eddie’s desperately thrusting up into him, forehead slick with sweat and messy strands of hair all over it. Buck can barely move and just lazily rolls his hips, concentrating on kissing the side of Eddie’s face, sandpaper-like facial hair tingling his lips.”

I love you,” he breathes, high with pleasure, aftershock still rumbling through him, his ass getting oversensitive in the best way as Eddie’s still fucking him.

“God, you’re so- so fucking beautiful, _Evan_ , aah, I’m so lucky to have you, I love you, I love you so mu- _oh, Evaaan,_ ” he whines when Buck tugs at his hair, gone gone gone, coming like the world's ending and the moans that comes out of his throat fuck-

Buck thinks he can feel him come, but that could be his fucked out brain and imagination. 

When Eddie slips out, _he does feel it_ , the tickle of lube and come on his ass cheeks, dripping out of him along his inner thigh and probably on Eddie’s jeans and the car seat. Just knowing it has his dick pitifully twitch.

  
  


It takes them a while to recover, covered in sweat and come and starved for each other still, cuddling half naked in the back seat, smiling and exchanging small, exhausted kisses.

Eddie yawns in his neck, nudging him with his nose. "We need to move, Ev," he says softly, but his arms are still firmly around him, keeping him close, telling Buck all he needs to know.

(And he's never getting over this, over being held _after_ , over still having value after the person he's with got what they wanted. The fact he convinced himself he could live without this for ages before he and Abby dated… God. He'll never go back to sleeping with strangers. And if he’s lucky, if he puts on the work, he’ll never have to sleep with anyone else than Eddie ever again)

Outside the car, the loud guys are back, loudly arguing this time and car doors slam shut, blaring music picking up to that god awful song. So much for the afterglow.

Eddie says something and Buck's brain is still offline, so Eddie takes his head in his hands and gently forces it up so he can make eye contact. “Buck, we need to move, okay? I don't want to, but-”

 _But they do_ , because they’re basically asking to get caught with any passing second they keep indulging not getting dressed and driving away.

“Yeah, okay, just-” he hears himself say, but his heart’s not in it. Next time they have the brilliant idea of fucking in the car, they’ll have to grin and bear it till they reach one of their homes, because this? _It sucks_.

They get dressed quickly, using a spare T-shirt to clean themselves up, one that Buck had forgotten in the backseat three years ago and meant to put back in his bag. As they do, they chuckle at the argument taking place close enough and loud enough from them they can hear most of the shouts over the music (somehow slept with someone else's girlfriend, and it’s getting _nasty_ ). 

One last kiss and they both sigh into it -and how ridiculous are they that they can’t spot kissing without feeling like shit?

Buck exits the Jeep and closes the door, letting the cold air bring him down from his come drunk high. It doesn’t do much, and he sighs, shaking his head -Eddie has that lasting effect on him, like he’s floating- and he slides back behind the wheel of the Jeep.

That’s when the other car pulls off far too quickly and Buck frowns, because no headlights?

_What?_

“BUCK!” and that’s the last thing he hears before the other car crashes into the Jeep and his head cracks against his window.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


(And he should know, _he should know_ , that when he wins he inevitably ends up losing, that the game is rigged.

He knows. He knows. He knows.

Eddie made him forget)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soo.. how about them rings now @himbo-buckley?


	5. 4:42 am

“911 what’s your emergency?”

“This is LAFD firefighter Ed- Eddie Diaz- there’s been a collision. Two vehicles- one t-boned our car-” he grunts, looking down at his phone, rattling the address his GPS is showing. When he’s done, his free hand febrily searches for a pulse on Buck, trying not to look, but it’s impossible, the blood and how limp he is, robbing Eddie of his breath of his hope. _God, no, not him, not him, not him_ . “My- c’mon Buck!” he begs, sobbing. _“My boyfriend_ \- he’s hurt and-” he finds his pulse, relief so strong he collapses against the side of the Jeep, only maintaining himself upright by gripping the door handle with everything he has left. “He’s unconscious. He cracked his head against the window,” he says, trying to see if Bucks injured anywhere else, “I can’t-” he stops, doubling over as a wave of nausea assaults his sense and he grunts in pain.

“ _Sir?_ Are you also injured? Help is on the way,” the 911 operator assures him and fuck, Eddie was never on that side of a emergency, but right now that voice on the other side of the line is th only thing keeping him afloat.

“No- no signs of smoke or fuel leak,” Eddie continues, listing what he can to prepare the team that will show up on the scene, bit his head is killing him.

“ _Sir, are you injured?_ ”

Eddie blinks a few times, the red veil over his vision bothersome. It’s blood, he realizes. It’s blood. _He’s bleeding_. He’s hurt. He was… fucking hell, he was practically ran over, practically crushed between a hummer and Buck’s Jeep.

 _I should be dead_ , he thinks, breathing running out of him like he’s running a marathon, shallow and-

“I think I hurt my head too,” he croaks. “I’m- I’m bleeding. My head. I took a dive to avoid the car.” 

He forces his fist to unfurl around the Saint Christopher medal around his neck before he breaks the chain and he loses it. 

“Okay. What about the other car and it’s occupants?” the 911 operator asks, voice gentle.

It takes a moment for Eddie to understand, too focused on breathing as slowly as he can to avoid a panic attack and Buck’s face.

The operator asks again.

“I don’t-” _Shit._ He didn’t even think about-

“Sir, are you okay?” someone asks, but not on the phone.

When Eddie looks up, head swimming, a 7-11 clerk is looking at him in concern, phone against her ear and radiating panic.

“Someone else called you guys,” he announces to the operator, trying to be helpful so there’s no wire getting crossed. “Check- _shit._ Check the other car I can’t-” he asks the clerk.

He can’t leave Buck, can barely walk-

He pukes.

 _Oh that’s not good_ , the rational part of his brain with the EMT training observes. _Not good at all_.

In the Jeep, Buck groans in pain, eyes fluttering but not quite opening.

“Don’t- Ev, _don’t move_ ,” Eddie orders, panic choking him, spitting out the taste of vomit from his mouth, the smell of his sick at his feet nearly sending him over the edge of retching again. 

He concentrates on Buck but- _fuck there’s so much blood_ and he knows that’s standard for an open wound on the head, _but it’s Buck_. Who gets injured, who bleeds, who always ends up in a hospital bed, who’s carrying Eddie’s heart in his chest, who he loves so much- he can’t he can’t he can’t he can’t-

Distantly, he hears sirens and louder, _closer_ , the 7-11 clerk is trying to get the guys that t-boned the Jeep to calm down and-

The motor of their hummer roars to life and the clerk screams and Eddie- it’s not the blood dripping in his eyes that makes him see red, it’s the panicked shouts of drunk guys pleading to the driver to drive off. To flee..

And he tries- _the fucker actually tries_ and Eddie gets a rush, something too horrible for words, something that brings him up on shaky legs to round the totaled Jeep to the freaking hummer.

The driver is struggling to put the hummer in reverse, sirens getting closer, both from a fire truck and patrol cars and Eddie opens driver door, barely takes in the bloody nose of the fucker and the deflated airbags that he tugs the guy’s arm, climbs in as best as he can, knocks the gear shift into park and steals the keys from the ignition.

The guys in the hummer scream at him, but there’s a world of pain Eddie could inflict on them way worse than throwing their keys away and forcing them to deal with the consequences of their stupidity.

There’s a moment -a long one- where he is sure he’s going to lose it, drag the driver out and punch him to pulp. God he wants to. It’s what he deserves. Eddie’s fists curl at his sides, pain coursing through his left forearm, his head, his heart-

He wishes he didn’t have Christopher to worry about, that keeping his custody was a sure thing that couldn’t be challenged on a whim by his parents; that Bobby couldn’t take his job if he was to lose it again after the street fighting; that Buck wasn’t injured, so that Eddie didn’t have to be worried getting dragged in a cell instead of going to the hospital with him.

He breaths in, out, in, out, deflating, still so fucking angry but-that’s fucker’s not worth it, even if Eddie wants the arena back for a terrifying second. But he’s better. He’s better and he has too much to lose.

 _And fuck, Frank is really going to give me a gold star sticker for de-escalating my own goddamn self from doing something stupid_ , he thinks, near hysterical. Hell, Eddie might give himself one of those.

Anger bleeds out of him, strings cut, and he crumbles on his ass on the asphalt as he tries to get back to Buck.

An ambulance parks near the scene, painting everything in strobbing reds and blues, hurting his eyes, the siren so loud he can barely feel the throbbing pain in his head.

He directs the first paramedics to Buck, pushing them off when they try to look him over, only accepting help by the second team. Even then, he lets them do the minimum until Buck is loaded in the ambulance and he argues his way in,, leaving the cops and their questions for the drunk driver, his priority straight.

He doesn’t know if knowing what the paramedics are talking about is a good or a bad thing, the words going out of their mouths would be terrifying either way and Eddie loses it then, crashing at Buck’s feet, out of the way even if he wants to hold him, hand going to his ankle, desperate to touch him, to feel his warmth, to confirm he’s not gone, not cold, not dead-

“Is this yours?”

One of the paramedics pushes something in his hand- his phone. 

He didn’t realize he had dropped it, doesn’t even know when- the screen is cracked, but the call with 911 is still going. 

“Thank you,” he breaths into it.

“Just doing my job,” the operator answers, sounding relieved. “You’re in good hands now, Eddie.”

“Yeah,” he says, before he disconnects the call, dread weighing everything down, breathing difficult again. 

He looks at Buck’s un-moving form, the neck brace, the blood, the- _it’s too much_. It’s not for him he’s worried about.

"I can't lose you," he begs.


	6. ???

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okaaaaaaay. so. chapter count went up. one more and i'm done

Buck wakes up.

That, more than anything, is a win in his book. He wakes up all foggy and head swimming, but he wakes up.

“Wha the-” he mumbles, trying to open his eyes… He knows he shouldn’t force this, he has experience in waking up in hospital after all, the smell so pungent he knows where he is before he’s really conscious of it.

“Hey hey _no_ . Don’t move okay? Evan, please don’t move, you’re at the hospital, you’re okay,” Eddie says urgently somewhere to his left, big strong hand oh so gently pushing him back into the bed when he tries to move. “I-I called Maddie, but it went straight to voicemail. Team will get here after the end of their shift. _Fuck, Ev_ -”

After a few tries, Buck manages to open his eyes, his vision’s blurry, his head swinging and fucking hell, nausea’s a bitch. He blinks a few times, trying to focus, trying to not fall off the bed but- no, he’s not moving. The room is though. 

“E-ddie,” he croaks, and he’s there, of course he’s there, steady as a sun-warmed rock.

When his eyes focus, he’s greeted by Eddie’s exhausted but relieved smile. Then Buck sees beyond it, takes in his red eyes and the redder scrapes on the left side of his face, the three Steri-Strips holding a long, jagged cut on his forehead.

“ _Mierda Evan_ -”

“You look like shit,” Buck hears himself say, like someone spoke through him. The room is still moving, heart in his throat. He’s gonna pass out. Puke. _Both_.

Miraculously, he does neither, holding on to Eddie’s hand, to his words of reassurance.

He cautiously moves his limbs one at a time, bracing himself for overwhelming pain or numbness that... never comes. 

_Uh_. “What-”

“You are so lucky you have no idea _mi amor_ .” Eddie kisses his forehead, and Buck feels the tears falling on his face, overwhelming, like an ocean being poured on his head, rumbling of rushing water, of screaming and screaming and then nothing, just pain and fear and bone shattering silence. “Seat belts are the greatest invention in the world,” Eddie continues, and Buck, he’s been worshiped before, but this? This is Eddie finding faith or something, he thinks hysterically. Buck doesn’t remember fastening his, just getting in the front seat and Eddie calling his name, but- “‘‘am gonna go get someone okay? Don’t- _don’t_ ,” Eddie orders, asks, begs, all three, voice trembling, wiping his cheeks with his sleeve, before he leaves the room.

The room twirls again, headache pounding his head again and again and again against the Jeep front seat window. Buck groans, but he’s more annoyed and uncomfortable than anything, checking himself over and wanting Eddie back. His left side is throbbing, wrist and shoulder probably sprained going by the ice packed and compression bandages. _His head is killing him_ and there’s a line of fire across his torso where his seat belt apparently did its job.

A nurse gets in the moving room, Eddie’s on her heels and Buck didn’t think you could look this small when you’re 6ft tall, but he stands corrected, ‘cause Eddie looks _small_ , ready to find himself a corner and cry himself to sleep.

The nurse checks him over, asks him the usual concussion twenty questions before shoving a light to his eyes. She ends up declaring him as fine as expected in the state he was brought in and assures a doctor will be with him at some point, but not to count on being released anytime soon.

Buck understands, it’s a Saturday night… or Sunday morning? Shit, this is why he performed poorly at the twenty question game.

“I have a concussion,” he diagnoses, reaaaally proud of himself. Hen and Chim would be patting him on the back if they were here

“Yes, Mr. Buckley, you do,” she nods, before snorting and leaving the room.

Eddie doesn’t wait to be asked to come back beside the bed, or sit on it, hand a shy of painful on Buck’s uninjured wrist, desperate to hold on to him.

That’s okay, though. Buck is pretty desperate to be held too.

“You okay? I don’t-” he blinks, vision hazing. Eddie wasn’t in the car, he doesn’t think so, but he can’t quite- “You were on the other side how can-”

“I saw it coming, I jumped away,” Eddie explains, gesturing at his face and the pretty big bump hiding in his hair, before showing off his bandaged left forearm and fuck how Buck didn't notice that- “not broken, just more scraped skin… I tried- I tried calling you but-”

Eddie’s shout echoes in his head, right hand bucking his seat belt the very second after it rang on the parking lot. “I heard you. _I heard you,_ ” Buck stresses. “You saved me.”

“You’re seat belt saved you, pendejo.”

A wave of nausea hits Buck and it takes him a while to breath through it, Eddie rubbing comforting circles on his thigh, anchoring him. “Let’s- agree to disagree,” he croaks. “What happened to the other car?”

Eddie rolls his eyes and blinks away tears as he sits straight on the bed. Fury spreads on his face like a well-worn blanket and Buck’s heart sinks at that, at how Eddie’s more at ease with anger than any other emotion when he’s hurting. 

“ _Of course that’s what you ask_ ,” he mutters. “Can’t you worry about yourself for fucking once? You have a concussion, _Evan_ , and-” Eddie deflates, running out of spite, or fuel, “you-you already asked me that three hours ago.”

_Oh. So I didn’t just fail the twenty question game once, but twice! That’s why he’s so frayed._

“At least I’m consistent?” Buck tries for levity, but falls short. “But really-”

“Like always with drunk drivers, they got away with barely a scratch on them,” Eddie snarls.

 _O-Kay, then._ Eddie still has some anger in him, and well, that explains the _absence_ of headlights.

“Hey at least,” Buck chuckles, “at least it didn’t happen when our pants were down or something.” _Wait_ \- he freezes in the bed, not quite able to remember- “We were- clothed, right?”

Eddie looks at him like he’s lost it, like he wants to shake him hard, but ends up choking up a giggle, that quickly turns into a sob that he hides in Buck’s pillow, shaking with it. “I thought I-I lost you.”

“Hey we’re-” Buck breaths, “ _Eddie_ , we’re fine.” 

Eddie sits up again. He gathers himself for a moment, wiping down his tears, breathing so even Buck knows it’s an exercise his therapist must have drilled into his head in the past few months.

(Part of Buck is glad to see Eddie so wrecked, so vulnerable. Him being more emotionally opened is still something he’s working through)

“Your Jeep isn’t,” Eddie mumbles after a while.

Buck closes his eyes, head hitting the window again, the violence of the crash slamming into him. “That bad?”

Eddie nods minutely, passing his hand on his face and wincing because of the scraps on the side of it.

“I was really-” he stops, and Buck can see the horror of what could have been sinking in Eddie’s mind, leaving him shaking for a moment, hand over his chest, touching his medal through his shirt. “Lucky doesn’t quite cover it, you know. But I was- if I had got into the passenger seat…” he doesn’t finish, doesn’t need to. They’re both firefighters. They know. “All that side took the brunt of it, not sure it can be saved, but it's gonna cost that fucking asshole either way. _Who the fuck drinks and drive?_ They had one of those stupid hummer the size of a mini-house Evan,” he explains.

Buck takes his uninjured hand in his, eyes blinking a lot, floaty and shaky and not sure if he’s all there. It’s hard to keep his eyes open. “ _I’m okay_ ,” he lies -but a lie like that is just… a future truth. “You said so yourself, I’m okay. Concussion- is nothing.”

He’s not Shannon. Hell, Buck is beginning to think he’s immortal, but better not tell that to Eddie’s face. _Ever_.

“Yeah, I’m just-”

“t’s okay. Did you sleep? You need to sleep, Eddie.”

“I’m also on concussion watch,” Eddie shrugs, gesturing at the bump on his head.

 _And obviously not happy about it._ Buck shakes his head, and _oooooh, no_ , he shouldn’t have done that ‘cause everything, Eddie included, begins to swing around him like he’s back in that motherfucking Tea Cup ride Maddie insisted they ride when they were kids.

(Somewhere, far too close, he can hear a distorted Mickey Mouse laugh)

“Hey hey, it’s okay Buck, just- breath okay? I need you to breathe.” 

Eddie’s voice is like a lifeline, tugging him back to solid ground one step at a time.

  
  


He doesn’t know how much time passes, but when he reopens his eyes, Eddie’s awkwardly lying down with him on the bed. A bed that was not built for two grown men their size to cuddle. His vision is still not back to normal, but he can focus better, and this close, he can fully appreciate the scraps and cuts on Eddie’s face.

“Bobby’s gonna be so pissed,” Buck whispers worriedly to him. “Two firefighters on sick leave at the same time gonna be hard to work around.”

And as he says the words, he knows it’s true, knows that Bobby will look at them and see a burden on the station and more than likely will readdress the fact they should be split up.

Eddie must think the same, the way his face clouds, ready for a storm. “Bobby will have to deal. He’s too-” he stops, face scrunching up, words failing him, or knee-jerk reaction to obey Bobby in all things kicking in.

Buck knows, he knows, _he knows_ how hard going against Bobby is _._ He still asks, “What?” needing someone else- no, needing _Eddie_ to say it first, to say he’s not going to be alone in that fight, that they have each other’s back this time.

“Eventually, he will have to stop butting in your business. Ours too,” Eddie finally says, steel and finality in his voice, looking Buck straight in the eyes as he squeezes his hand in reassurance.

Buck sags in relief on the bed, knocking their forehead together, hurting them both. “ _Shit. I’m sorry I’m so-_ I love you.”

Eddie smiles at that, still wincing. “I love you too.” There is so much in his eyes. Relief, pain, fear, a touch of anger still. Mischief, too, when he jokes, “Next time we just drive home.”

Buck acquiesces, before giving his nose a careful peck.

“Kiss me?” and the way Eddie asks, voice cracking and desperate, it breaks Buck a little.

“ _Always_.”

It’s slow and reassuring, _you’re here, you’re here_ , dancing on their lips, _you’re fine, we’re fine_ . Buck sighs in relief, kissing one more _I love you_ on Eddie’s lips.

“ _Eddie!_ ”

They both turn towards the door… where Pepa and Chris are standing, looking at them in both shock and incomprehension. She looks tired, her face lined by worry, her petite frame weighted down by the gym bag she’s carrying and Chris… for fuck’s sake, Chris is still ruffled from bed, curls a mess and T-shirt half hanging out of his jeans.

“Uuh,” Eddie says, frozen. “ _Why did you bring-_ ”

“And where was I supposed to leave him, abandon him at your house while I bring you clean clothes?” she drops the gym bag, and it hits the floor with a soft _oof_ . She crosses her arms. “He heard me talk to you on the phone and wouldn’t calm down! Come Chris, let’s give your _papi_ and his friend some-”

“ _NO!_ ” Chris’ shout startles all of them and Eddie slides off the bed, one hand in the air to placate his son, the other still on Buck’s wrist.

And he is the sweetest kid there is, doesn’t shout in anger, doesn’t really act out. The only time he did in Buck’s presence was that Sunday over a month ago, when he had nearly caught them kissing and thought Buck had made Eddie cry. Christopher had turned into a little feral animal against him, and Buck isn’t so keen on going for round two. His heart won’t take it.

“Hey mijo, listen-”

“ _No! I don’t want to go!_ ” he shouts again, hitting the floor with one of his crutches, making both Buck and Pepa wince.

Buck feels sick. This is so not the way Chris finding out about them should have gone.

Pepa puts a reassuring hand on Chris’ shoulder. “Fine _sobrino_ , I’m gonna get you hot chocolate.” She turns her eyes toward them, and Buck’s heart stops, but she just smiles smugly at them, “I knew you were happier lately. Good for you, Eddie. Now your Abuela owes me money.”

Buck’s eye ticks and Eddie glances at him for a second, blinking rapidly before he looks back at her.

 _No. Fucking. Way._ No fucking way those two sweet ladies have been… betting on them. 

Before Josefina leaves, she catches Buck’s eyes and, yeah, he remembers that conversation they had when they met. Her eyes right now say _Not just dressing alike, then_ and he can feel the blush blooming on his cheeks, because while Buck had still been hung up on Abby back then, he had been crushing on Eddie hard and his aunt probably had known.

When she exits the room, Christopher just stares at them for a moment.

“Mijo I can explain-” Eddie starts.

“Are you guys kissing now?” he cuts his father, a little frown on his face, but beside that, Buck can’t make out his expression or thoughts.

Buck desperately needs Eddie to look at him again, to see it’s going to be okay, but… he knows Eddie can’t give that to him, and he can’t ask for it. That was the unspoken deal, the price. Chris will always come before _them_ . And Buck knew this, was- no, _is_ okay with it, even if it destroys him but... _oh God_ it hurts.

Eddie nods to his kid, squeezing Buck’s wrist lightly before letting go. 

He goes to Chris, the distance suddenly so vast between them Buck chokes up, tears stinging his eyes. _He did this to himself,_ picked the most complicated situation, the one risk/reward equation that was so obviously going to bankrupt him, and fell in love and now he’s going to get heartbroken and he won’t even have the friendship with Eddie left, because he can’t just have crumbs, he can’t, he can’t-

“We wanted to talk to you about that, Chris. But-”

“Are you gonna be okay?” Chris cuts his dad again, wobbly bottom lip saying it all. “Pepa said there was a _car crash_.”

Buck swallows, hard, before looking away. The last car crash took Shannon away from them and now Eddie nearly died in one.

“Yeah, look at me,” Eddie kneels slowly in front of his son, letting him examine his cuts and bandaged forearm. “As bad as your scraped knee with the skateboard.”

Chris nods, before his attention turns to Buck, just for a second, before avoiding his eyes, face still inscrutable. “Is Bucky gonna be okay?” he whispers to Eddie, but Buck can still hear him.

“Yes, of course he is, he just got his head bumped a little… Do you- do you want to go see him?” Eddie sounds so cautious, letting Chris the option to say no.

Buck knows, down to his bones, that Eddie will respect his son’s wish and get Chris out of the room. And that the next time he and Eddie see each other, there will be tears.

There’s a pause, Buck’s holding his breath like never before, never this scared, never this alone.

Chris finally nods, putting his arms around his father’s neck and letting himself be carried to the hospital bed. Eddie has some difficulties lifting him up with only one good arm but he manages to hold him long enough to sit him close to Buck.

And Buck… Buck preferred when he couldn't see Eddie’s face, because it’s so closed off and- He swallows, _hard_ . It’s been a while since Buck has been locked out of Eddie’s emotions. _Please don’t shut me out. Please let me stay_ , pounds inside his head, trying to get out and Buck has to bite his lip to stay silent. He has no right to ask.

He turns fully to Chris, who’s looking at him with his teary little eyes, cheeks red and splotchy.

“I’m okay,” Buck says to him on automatic.

Chris’ little hand plays with the sleeve of his hospital gown for a moment, eyes downcast. “Pretty sure that means you’re not, or you would still be in your own clothes. Like dad. You don’t have- to pretend so I’m not sad Bucky.”

Eddie exhales, shaky, and he ruffles Chris’ hair, the words probably meaning something important to the Diazes, something Eddie’s proud of.

Buck gives them both a tentative smile as he admits, “I’ll be okay then. I was scared for a second. You know me and hospitals.”

Chris nods a little. _They all know about Buck and hospitals_.

“Are you-” Chris stops, glances at him and then at Eddie, before looking down again. “I got really scared too,” he confesses. “I don’t want you to die like mommy did.”

Buck’s mouth opens, but nothing comes out. What are you supposed to say to a kid that already has lost his mother? It’s not like he can promise he won’t die. He’s a firefighter. Him living through his work day can’t be assured, and today proves that he doesn’t need to be at work to get a brush with death.

“You know Buck will do whatever he can to avoid that, Chris.” Eddie’s voice is so tightly wounded, containing so much more. Worry. Pain. Anger. Relief. Faith. “Just like me.” 

“I will,” he assures them both. “I’ll keep swimming back to you, Chris. I told you.” He moves his injured arm just so Chris can see the Dory tattoo on his forearms, even if it’s partly obscured by the compression bandage and the ice packs surrounding his wrist. 

“It's because of me,” Chris suddenly says, staring at the tattoo.

Buck and Eddie frown at each other above his head.

“What is, mijo?”

“‘cause I made a wish and Harry said- you couldn't get that kind of wish from a birthday cake cause it took the-” Chris says in a rush, before stopping. He frowns, mouthing a word to himself before asking “Constant? from people?”

“Consent?" Buck tries, not following. Damn, the talks they must have at the Grant-Nash’s household are really different than the ones at the Buckleys when he was a kid. Again, Micheal and Athena are better parents than Marion and Georges Buckley could ever hope to be.

(Not that it was the kind of stuff they hope for)

“Yeah, that.”

Buck and Eddie exchange a look of incomprehension. _What does that have to do with anything?_

“What wish, mijo?” Eddie presses, carding his good hand through his son’s hair to encourage him.

“That you and Buck would kiss,” Chris says, not meeting his father’s eyes, or Buck’s. And yep, that’s shame on his little face, devastating to witness. “So you would stop looking sad when he was gone. And you could stay with us always,” he directs at Buck, tiny hand gripping his hospital gown tight. “I know I should have not done it, _Harry was right_. I knew after Mom- I shouldn’t make more wishes, ‘cause she came back but she died and-”

Eddie engulfs Chris in his arms, rocking him as he sobs, looking so helplessly at Buck it breaks his heart. Kid logic in the face of loss really is strange. He remembers when Maddie left for college, all the make-believe he clung to, all the blame he hoarded… 

It takes a while for Chris’s sobs to recede, and it occurs to Buck that Josephina must have gone across town to fetch Chris’ hot chocolate instead of the hospital cafeteria with how long she’s taking. 

“So that was your birthday wish,” Eddie says when Chris looks up from his arms, jaw slacked and wonder on his face.

Buck knows why.

They talked about this, about that day when they were so close to realize it wasn't just them in love with the other, that it wasn’t just hopeless wishes and unasked miracles. They talked about it in the dark, in cars, at the breakfast table, admitting, examining, explaining. They talked to no end about how they felt, how it began, how it hurt. They talked about their sheer stupidity, the blinders they had on for so long, about that damn bet and everything. About how Buck picked up extra shift after extra shift so he couldn't be tempted to swing by the Diaz's house when he had free time, desperate for them to be his, but knowing he had no rights. About him looking at Chris and wishing to always be there for him, to get to see him grow up, _get to help raise him. A_ bout how much he loved the both of them so goddamn hard sometimes he would wake up sobbing after nightmares or after the sweetest, most impossible domestic dreams.

They talked about how and when they would talk to Chris. Agonized over the possibilities, argued, relented, agreed. And all this time Christopher had been wishing for them to happen, had barely waited for the cake to be put down in front of him to do it.

(Buck remembers Eddie looking at him after he and Chris had blown the candles, loving him so deeply, sick with guilt because he had made a wish too, one that could never be, one that was eating at him. He remembers looking away, because if he hadn’t, he would have kiss Eddie)

Chris nods, looking between them, clearly confused. “Aren’t you mad?”

“No no no, of course not.” Eddie reassures him, hugging him. “I could never be mad at you, mijo.”

"I'm not mad either Chris,” Buck says softly when the kid chances a look at him, “that would be pretty stupid of me since I made that wish too.”

"Over my birthday cake?”

"Yep. All I want is to make you and your dad happy, you know.”

Chris nods, _duh_ written all over his face, and at least that much he’s sure of, before he frowns again. “But…. What if- what if you and dad fight? Will you leave like mommy did?”

And that… _shit_. 

“No matter what, you'll always be important for me Chris. I'll always be there for you if you want me to be, even if me and your dad fight,” he promises, glancing at Eddie to check, but Eddie already nodding, unshaded tears in his eyes. Not overstepping then. Good. “You're my favorite Diaz, okay?”

Eddie laughs, pouting dramatically. “ _I'm right here_.”

“And I said what I've said,” Buck shrugs, before he winces at the careless movement, his body not too happy about it. He still hugs Chris as hard as he can with his right arm. 

Eddie kisses the top of Chris' hair, before doing the same to Buck’s. “I love you two so much.”

“I love you too daddy and now we get to keep Bucky!” And Chris’ eyes are still red, his cheeks still blotchy from crying, but his smile… His smile is just as powerful as Eddie’s, melting pain and fear right off Buck’s bones.

“Yeah, that’s pretty neat, isn’t it?” and Eddie looks at him, honey brown eyes shining.

“The neatest,” Buck confirms.

And he knows he’s good when he doesn’t even say the self deprecating joke that would ruin this, ‘cause they’re not sending him back to the store by the end of next week. They love him. They love him. They love him.

And that’s the only win he’ll ever need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i would like to say sorry to any healthcare professional reading this fic, i have, OBVIOUSLY, no clue what i'm doing with that aspect LOL


	7. 10:32 am

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okaaaaaaaaay. Second part is done. Thank you to everyone that supported, kudo'd and commented this fic and TWB, here and on tumblr you guys deserves all the 😘😘😘
> 
> SMALL REMINDER: i follow canon up until 3x15 (Eddie Begins), so TWB, this one and the third part are alt season 3 continuation/ending
> 
> HUGE THANK YOU @unhealthy-amount-of-obsession on tumblr who helped again and @himbo-buckley for her Bobby Nash deserves to be vibe check meta, you both are awesome!!

When Buck blinks himself awake again, he does a painful double take at Eddie. He’s half asleep on the seat next to the bed, in a tragic but comfy looking hoodie/sweatpants combo. For a moment, Buck’s afraid he slept the day or more. Then he remembers the gym bag Pepa had been carrying. Eddie must have used his nap to change into the clean clothes.

The red shirt was ruined anyway, Buck thinks mournfully; cardboard-like in places where sweat, come and blood dried during the night. It will be properly mourned when they’re out of the hospital. Perhaps it can be saved by a good wash, though he’s not too hopeful. 

It was one damn good shirt.

“Bucky, look!” Chris whispershouts excitingly, tugging at his sleeve. Buck looks down, noticing that Chris is still sitting by his side on the bed. _God, the patience on that kid_. Chris points at his own neck, where a real looking stethoscope is hanging. “I checked on your heart.”

“You did? Probably why I slept so good,” he smiles down at the kid, before he yawns soundly. _How am I still tired?_ He moves around a little, shuffling up the bed so he’s in a more or less comfy sitting position. “You’re not gonna get in trouble for having this, are you?”

Chris shakes his head, before patting Buck’s cheek like he did at the pier. “The nurse that came to see you told me to keep my eye on you while she was on her break,” he explains very seriously.

“Damn you must’ave been real impressive for her to trust you with that,” Buck hums, getting his right arm around Chris, snuggling him close.

“Yup! Dad said I could and everything!”

After a minute or two of watching Chris play with the stethoscope and look around the room, he asks, “You okay, kiddo? Hospitals are boring.”

“ _I knooooow_ and it smells weird,” Chris nods vehemently, scrunching up his nose.

Buck can only chuckle at that. He’s not a big fan of the disinfectant smells assaulting his senses. It brings back too much. _Me and hospitals, that’s the real love story, jeez_.

“You'll be bored at home too ‘cause you can't work and you can’t play, so you’ll stay with us, right? While you can’t work? Pleeeeaaaase?”

Chris’s puppy eyes and the unconditional love in them get at him so freaking easily, but that’s not his place. He swallows back the enthusiastic _YES!_ he wants to shout desperately, composing his face as much as he can.

(Perhaps one day he’ll get to say yes to Chris without checking with Eddie first, but they’re not there yet)

“Uh, we’ll have to ask your dad.”

Chris actually laughs at that, like Buck said something hilarious. “Dad always wants you around.”

“He does now?”

“Hey hey mijo, what did we say about spilling Daddy’s secrets to everyone?” Eddie shakes himself awake, smiling a little grumpily at them. He’s back to being recklessly open and vulnerable with Buck, face hiding nothing of the affection he feels for him. The few minutes when he shut down, neither of them knowing how Chris was going to take this - _them_ \- had been hell on Earth. Buck never wants to go back to that.

“But Buck’s not everyone!” Chris complains.

“Again, he’s got a point,” Buck defends, ruffling his hair and pouting at Eddie and then at Chris. “C’mon Bud, tell me aaaaall your dad’s secrets please and thank you.”

“ _Ha. Ha. Ha_. No,” Eddie says, gingerly standing up and stretching a little, wincing when he overdoes it.

The bruises on his face have turned purpley blue and Buck is reminded how close he got from losing him, how worse it could have been than a couple of stitches on his forehead and a sprained wrist.

(He doesn't want to see his own face. That's a mess he can do without for as long as he can put off)

Eddie comes to sit with them, impressively shuffling Chris on his lap with only one arm. “How are you?” he asks, eyes roaming Buck’s face, searching.

“This is the third time I wake up,” Buck says confidently, but Eddie’s face falls, forcing Buck to quickly add, “fourth if you count the first time I don’t remember.”

He hates losing time. He knows he did it a lot after the truck exploded, waking up and crying, half out of it and still pinned under the truck, half hearing voices all around him and the pain. _Fuck the pain_. He woke up several times, but he doesn’t remember, only having Maddie and the team’s accounts of those few days. 

“Okay,” Eddie breaths, visibly relieved. “Good. How’s his heart, mijo?”

Chris giggles, tiny hand playing with his borrowed stethoscope. “Big!!”

(And if Buck’s heart picks up at that, that’s his business)

“That we knew, didn’t we?” Eddie smiles down at his son, before popping a kiss on the top of his hair. He turns his eyes to Buck. “And your head?”

Buck shrugs with his good shoulder. “Not bad. Room isn’t moving anymore, but it's still a little fuzzy when I’m not concentrating,” he answers truthfully. Eddie has a pretty accurate Buck-specific bullshit meter on top of being an ex army medic and an EMT, lying to him is just… useless. “Could use a cuddle.”

“Bed is too small,” Eddie answers, smile so bright it dislodge the remaining worry out of his face.

“Wasn’t talking about you,” Buck snarks back to make Chris holler.

Eddie frowns, dramatic. “Is this- is this what I have to look forward to in the future? You two ganging up on me?”

Buck and Chris exchange a conspiratorial look. “Yup!” Chris says, nodding happily.

“You love us,” Buck teases, booping him on the nose instead of the more traditional peck -Eddie’s too far, and kissing him in front of Chris would be- weird? Kinda. It’s certainly allowed now, but it still feels strange.

Eddie doesn’t even pretend to think about it, brown eyes shining. “I do.”

Athena pops her head through the open hospital room door, startling Buck a little.

“Heard you guys had a touch too much fun on date night?” She’s still in uniform, looking a little bleary eyed and probably only held up by sheer power of will and coffee.

“Hey ‘thena,” Buck greets her, feeling sheepish. He can’t help it, he just hates looking like a fool in front of her.

Chris excitingly calls her name and she stops dead in her tracks, eyes going round.

“Heeeeey Chris, didn’t see you there,” she says, mortified. She gives this look to Eddie, a wordless _oh shit_ _I fucked up_ that is pretty incongruous on her -Buck’s not used to Athena messing anything. She really must be tired.

Eddie’s quick to reassure her. “It's okay Athena. We- we had a conversation with him about us,” he says, kissing the top of Chris’s hair, who’s of course beaming.

(In fact, he hasn’t stopped beaming at them for hours, only unhappy when Pepa tried to convince him to come back home with her. He got his way since the team will probably fight over who gets the opportunity to drive Eddie and Chris home)

“Dad and Bucky are dating!” Chris cheers and really, how did Buck and Eddie fear that he would take them being together badly?

“Yes, they are,” Athena says softly, sagging a little in relief, before she fully enters the room, piercing eyes going from injury to injury on the both of them. “All good?”

“More or less,” Buck says, gesturing down at himself. “Mild concussion and sprained wrists for the both of us, bruised up shoulder and arm for me,” he downplays a little, not wanting to alarm Chris. “And I’m getting a new car!”

Despite his light tone, Eddie gives him his _you’re not fooling me Buck_ look, knowing full well he loved his Jeep. It was an awesome car sure, but mostly his attachment was because it had been the first thing he ever bought that had been all his and not his parents.

(He reserves himself the right to have a good cry over it later. _He loved his Jeep_ , and in the end, it protected him well enough)

“I know. I saw a picture of your Jeep. God, you two are-” she stops, minding Chris’s ears too. “The officers that took your statements gave me the rundown: underage drinking, DIU, hit and run tentative,” she lists, shaking her head, anger radiating of her. 

The three of them know it could have been so, so much worse. “In 2017, LAPD only ID’ed a suspect or solved only eight percent of all reported hit-and-runs in the city,” Buck hears himself peeps, not entirely sure from where he knows that. 

Athena doesn’t look impressed, but nods. “Luckily, we have Eddie here to thank for stopping the driver from fleeing.”

Eddie shakes his head at her, begging, and tries real hard to look innocent when Buck frowns at him. “What?”

“Oh, he didn’t tell you,” Athena scoffs. “Mr. Tough Man over here climbed into the hummer and forced them to stay put.”

“Dad’s a hero!” Chris says excitingly.

Buck nods at the kid, forcing a smile. The officers that took their statement earlier didn’t mention it, but if Eddie punched someone… that’s not good- absolutely not fucking good, but he can’t ask with Chris there.

“Your dad made sure we didn’t have to run after the ones that hurt him and Buck. Now, it’s gonna cost that fucker.”

Chris tugs at both their arms, eyes round. “Athena gets to say bad words?”

“Uuuuh, nope, mijo,” Eddie forces out, suppressing a smile as he chances a look at her, “not even Athena.”

“Uh, yes, sorry Chris. I’m just- _tired_. You weren’t the only ones that had a long night,” she explains, looking down at her phone and frowning. “The cavalry wasn’t five minutes behind m-”

Buck hears running getting close and sure enough, Chim and Hen stumble through the door, panting, looking equally ragged by their 24-hour shift, bone tired and disheveled; Bobby following behind them in no better state.

“Took you long enough,” Athena says, popping a kiss on Bobby’s cheek.

“I finally got hold of Maddie!” Chim immediately rushes to say at Buck passing an hand on his face, “she was sleeping and her phone went dead -she’s on her way, Buckaroo.”

And that, it helps more than it should. Buck’s fine. He knows he’s fine. This isn’t like the firetruck or the tsunami. He’s a grown ass man with a big bump on his head, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever be over getting his big sister back in his life, a phone call away from him when he’s in trouble.

Or over the fact that Chim - _CHIM!_ that kinda couldn’t stand him when he first started at the 118- is actually _physically_ relieved that Buck is okay. _Mind blow._ Neither of them are always very careful with each other's feelings, but they care. They care so much. God… when Buck saw Chim with the rebar through his head; when he found him bleeding to death in front of Maddie’s flat… his heart practically stopped. How much things can change in three years. This is his family. His home. It took work and time and a little bit of heartbreak, but this is his.

(“ _You’re just a nobody going nowhere, and I’m done being stupid about you, Evan._ ”)

But not everyone is his parents, or Hayden, or Abby, or Ali. He came to LA four years ago with a half empty bag of clothes and a bad attitude that screamed _please tell me I have value_ more than anything else. Look at him now, _the nobody going nowhere._ With a good, steady job; a sister; coworkers that are like blood to him; friends; a boyfriend that loves him… and perhaps, for the first time ever, Buck believes that it was their loss, all the people that left him and never came back.

“You did tell her he was fine, right?” Eddie sounds weird and looks weird when Buck turns his eyes to him. Stressed anew, biting his lip and sweat coming on his forehead. “My last voicemail to her was probably not that reassuring- he was still pretty fucked up when I called her then my phone died and-”

“I told her, she’s not-” Chim stops, blinking a lot, shaken. “ _She knows_ . How are you guys? And what the fuck happened Eddie, you told me Buck was taking you somewhere nice last night for your date.” Chim gestures widely at the room, “ _this isn’t nice_.”

Chris waves at Chim from where he’s sitting on one of the seats and Chim blinks at him, nervous laughter escaping him. “Hey Superman! Didn’t see you there, how are you here and-” 

Chim throws an angry look at Buck like it’s his fault he’s so tired and worried that he didn’t pay attention to the nine year old sitting _right there_. While he goes through the five stages of grief over spilling the beans about their relationship in front of Chris, Hen takes upon herself to go through Buck’s health chart looking Buck over and poking him where he isn’t injured to make Chris laugh.

Chim babbles something about best friend date being a thing that is real and that really, Chris should try it. Mostly, he looks like he’s about to cry for Eddie’s forgiveness.

“Hen, do you know Dad and Bucky are kissing?” the kid asks and yep, he probably is going to ask that to everyone for a while and be smug about it.

Chim strangles himself on his rant about best friend date and Eddie gently pats him on the back with his good hand. “Birthday cake wishes,” he tells him solemnly, because Buck is so not the only little shit in their couple. “Gotta love them, uh?”

“Took them long enough, right?” Hen chuckles, pinching Buck’s cheek until he sticks his tongue at her.

Chris nods. “Apparently it’s been a month! Since Bucky burnt his finger on the grill.”

“Buck did what now?” Bobby asks, startling Buck. He almost forgot he was there with how quiet he stayed since he entered.

“Uh-”

Chim shakes his head at him, back to normal now that he knows he didn’t fuck up. “Aren’t you a firefighter, man?”

“Okay I know, I know and _thank you_ Chris for selling me out, your dad is back as my favorite Diaz,” Buck whines, ruffling his hair. 

It wasn’t his fault! Eddie had been bending over the garden table at that moment, distracting Buck with his ass and yeah, okay, he had forgotten he was grilling veggies and lightly burned the tip of his finger. Sue him, looking at Eddie’s ass was worth it. 

And now, they’re never gonna let him live this down. They’re all looking at him, unimpressed, and yep, he’s keeping the reason he was distracted to himself to the grave. Even Eddie doesn’t need to know. Hell, _especially Eddie_. He would be way, wayyy too smug.

Bobby clears his throat, shaking his head. “ _You are a danger magnet_. Pretty sure you should be grounded forever. This is the second date night that ends up in the hospital Buck."

He says it fondly, half chuckling, but it doesn't sit well with Buck. He knows Bobby well enough, lived for his pat on the shoulder and proud smiles for too long not to recognize the gears turning in his head as he frowns slightly looking from Eddie to Buck.

Chris looks curiously at him, so Buck explains, “I choked on a piece of bread once,” as he taps the small scar on his throat.

Chris’ eyes widen and Buck can feel the way his little hand grips his forearm a lot stronger directly in his heart.

“Danger magnet,” Bobby repeats..

“Hey guys, could- uh, could I have a word with Bobby for a minute?” Buck hears himself ask, breath a little short.

Bobby’s eyebrows shoot up, as well as everyone else’s in the room, but they leave, Chim taking Chris in his arms to spare Eddie, Athena and Hen not even trying to hide the worried look they exchange. Eddie lingers for a second, squeezing Buck’s wrist, wordlessly asking if he wants him to stay, and he goes when Buck shakes his head.

He needs to do this on his own first.

(Knowing he has Eddie’s support is enough. If it gets ugly, Eddie will be there, but they both know this is mainly between Buck and Bobby)

The second Eddie exits the room, Bobby asks, “Is everything okay? Beside the car crash I mean?”

“Don’t separate me and Eddie,” is out of Buck’s mouth like a shot, an angry plea he’s not proud of, but now that he worked out the courage, it needs to be said before he loses steam, even if he sounds like he’s begging.

(He hates that he's always begging. _Don’t leave. Please. Don’t take it away_. Always on the defensive. Always playing not to lose)

Bobby’s shoulders tense -just that, just enough- and his hands go to his hips, Captain Dad mode engaged and fuck if Buck’s default reaction isn’t to say sorry and beg for forgiveness.

“Buck, I don’t want to, but-”

“The safety of the firehouse comes first,” he finishes, bitterness choking him. “I heard that before.”

_Shit_. He should have waited until he's out of the hospital to do this, in his own clothes, standing up, mind clear and still not reeling from the crash, the concussion and the very near miss of losing Eddie forever.

“I thought you were over that Buck.”

And _the way he says it_ , long suffering and tired of it, it sets Buck off, pain, fear and anger igniting within him.

_“No. You decided you were over it!_ ” he snarls. “And I-I decided groveling at your feet was easier than continuing fighting you.” It’s the truth. It hurt enough to be allowed back at the 118 like a toddler after a tantrum, everyone except Hen refusing to talk to him, making him feel like everything was his fault, while still being grateful for the crumps Bobby threw his way. So he rolled over and swallowed back everything he wanted to say, _needed to say_. “Separating me and Eddie because I got hurt outside of work is bullshit and you know it.”

Bobby actually looks like Buck hitted him, mouth going slack from shock. And that’s something isn’t it? That Bobby, who actually got close to actually punching Buck more than once -at work no less- is the one looking like Buck took a swing at him from his hospital bed.

“You’re letting your feelings cloud your judgement, you always do. You’re just in too deep, Buck. Work and your private life too intricate. It won’t work and you’ll both get burnt out,” he placades from where he’s standing, patient now, fatherly and wise, which pisses Buck even more.

_And, okay. Cognitive dissonance much? You don’t even realize that’s us you’re talking about_.

“You were supportive of us when we got together,” he accuses, thinking about _that week_ , about how he clinged to Bobby’s guidance; how glad he was for Bobby helping him parce his feelings and need for closure with Abby; his tears when he congratulated him and Eddie. Sure, he had put some firm boundaries to be respected at work and been pretty stern when they were signing the HR paperworks, but that had to be expected.

“And I’m still! But I didn’t realize how much you both would be consumed by it. The two of you hurt at the same time, it's gonna be hard-”

Buck shakes his head, screaming in frustration inside. “You’ll never think I’m ready for this.” It’s not petulance in his voice so much as outrage. He’ll always be a stupid, reckless kid to Bobby.

“I never said that.” Bobby passes his hand over his face, rubbing his eyes. 

“You can’t just push me to grow up and then decide I’m doing it too fast Bobby. And I know- I know I lean into it, that I like being the one you care for so much, that I basically beg for your help and your reassurances every single day since I started at the 118. I’ve my issue. I’m working on them,” Buck rants. Both Maddie and Eddie have persuaded him to try therapy again. First session is next week, but he knows he’s been starved for affection and parental figures for a long time and doesn’t need a shrink to tell him that. “But you have yours to work on too-”

Anger flares up Bobby’s face. “I don’t-”

“You remember the last time,” Buck cuts, “when Hen and Chim taped that codependency page on our lockers?”

“Yes-” Bobby nods, clearly not following, which is quite ironic. “You were joking about calling HR all day.”

“The thing is- we’re probably more codependent than me and Eddie are. You’re like- _you’re like a father to me Bobby_ . And I’m pretty sure I’m kinda like a son to you,” Buck says, feeling weird to finally say all that out loud, in no uncertain terms. He doesn’t think he’s ever been that honest with the man. “But-” _Shit_. Buck wishes it wasn’t this hard. “You lost your kids. My actual father’s an asshole. So you baby me, and I idolize you. It’s not- It’s not healthy,” he manages to say, barely maintaining eye contact, good hand tugging at the thin, scratchy hospital blanket covering his legs.

“Buck-”

“ _You know I’m right_. You only do this to me. The infantilizing and the second guessing and-”

“I-I worry about you!” Bobby shouts, nearing the bed, hands gripping the foot board, knuckles going white.

“And I get that! I’m glad for it! But you’re-” Buck swallows around the lump in his throat. “You’re suffocating, Bobby.”

And now it’s out there, the truth.

_You’re suffocating_.

Part of Buck just wants to disappear inside his hospital bed and never come up, because the hurt on Bobby’s face is hard to witness, especially since he’s the one that put it there, like a punch leaving a bruise. And sure, Bobby deserves it, but Buck’s metaphorical knuckles hurt like a motherfucker too.

That leaves Bobby speechless for a moment, both of them staring at the other with too much between them.

“I don’t mean too,” Bobby says eventually, voice so weak, almost like a hiccup. Buck is transported to the day he and Hen showed up at Bobby’s after the plane crash, only to find him hungover and losing it. “I just want what’s best for you, Buck.”

It’s not the first time Bobby says his name like this, spelling _son_ , but it’s the first time Buck wants to cry because of it.

“Then- then drop the double standard Bobby,” Buck asserts just as weakly, drained. “And don’t- please don’t take Eddie away from me. We’ve been good- for years- _this past month_ . We’ve-” words fail him and he just stares at Bobby for a few seconds, mouth open, good arm gesturing helplessly. “ _Appropriate_ . Not reckless. Not- endangering each other or the team. Even when we fought. We’ve been good. It’s not that we can do this. It’s- _Bobby_ , we’ve been doing it. I’m tired of having to prove myself to you. Don’t make us jump through the hoops, I’m not-” he swallows, feeling faint, but he powers through, knowing it needs to be said. To be heard. “I’m not scared of losing you anymore, not like I was.”

The words are deliberate, no rush, no anger. This isn’t what Buck wants, but perhaps it’s time to actually grow up and cut the cord, as ridiculous as it sounds. What had Hen said when he came back to work after the lawsuit debacle? That he should march to the beat of his own drum? She was right. It’s time.

“You- you would quit over it?” Bobby asks, gobsmacked, supporting himself and his disbelief on the railing of the foot board.

“No.” Buck’s not gonna lose Hen, Chim or the rest of the squad. “But I’ll sure as hell put some distance between us.” He won’t bulge from this. “It’s not- it’s not about Eddie. _I deserve_ to be treated like the adult I am and you need to stop acting like you know better and use your power as my captain to screw my life over to shape it as you like.”

Bobby looks away. For a moment, Buck just looks at him, the tired lines of his face, the bags under his eyes, the tension in his shoulder. He looks older than his fifty-two. P _ained_. All Buck has ever wanted from him was respect, not this tug of war.

“I-I won’t put you in opposite shifts,” Bobby finally surrenders and it’s costing him, Buck can see, but before he can thank him, Bobby… closes up. He stands up, letting go of the railing and looking nowhere near Buck. He holds a hand up, effectively silencing any words of thanks. “I’m glad you two are okay. I’ll see you when you’re back from sick leave.” 

And just like that, Bobby exits the hospital room, Buck too stunned to call after him, physically incapable of running after him, and forcing him to stay.

He doesn’t have time to compose himself or truly lose it that Eddie is back in the room, quickly followed by Hen and Chim. All three are staring at him in various states of wakefulness and worry.

“Where’s Chris?” Buck asks before they can say a thing.

“Charming the nurses, what do you think?” Eddie answers, sitting on the bed and taking Buck’s hand. “What happened, Athena followed Bobby- he seemed… upset?”

“I think- I think I just got disinherited. A second time,” he jokes, feeling light headed and it has nothing to do with his concussion. He remembers the last conversation with his parents, when he showed up fresh from quitting the SEAL training. He had barely been allowed in the living room, and walked back to the door pretty quickly when he had told them he had quit.

( _Disappointment, disappointment, disappointment, good for nothing, disappointment, disappointment, disappointment, disappointment, disa-_ )

“He was talking about moving your shifts to avoid straining the squad,” Hen mutters, claiming a seat. She closes her eyes, sighing deeply. “I told him it was a bad idea.”

“ _He moved our shifts?_ ” Eddie snarls, standing up, turning toward the door like he’s gonna chase Bobby.

“No, no,” Buck reassures him, tugging him back on the bed. Buck’s not going to lie, Eddie’s aggressiveness is making him feel better -and worse at the same time. “I convinced him otherwise, but- well. _He left_ ,” he says helplessly, gesturing at the door.

“He’ll come around Buckaroo,” Chim says, but his reassurance feels flat and going by his face, he’s not feeling too hopeful.

They all know the 118 is made of stubborn SOBs, and that Bobby is the reigning champion.

“I don’t want him to come around. I want him to-” Buck stops. Exhales. “t’s fine. Something had to give.”

_Can’t be me all the time_. 

Right now, Buck doesn't have the mental energy for this. He secured his partnership with Eddie at work, that's what matters. He'll cry and argue about his relationship with Bobby when he's out of here.

Chim decides it’s time for a diversion. “You guys know how long you’ll be out of commission?”

“A week for me because of the sprained wrist. A little more for this one,” Eddie says, voice clipped, pushing his hand in Buck’s hair so gentle Buck’s vision goes a little blurry. “Left shoulder and arm took a bit too much.”

Buck leans in the touch, eyes fluttering. He wants his bed or Eddie’s, sheets that don’t smell so strongly of industrial detergent, his own damn clothes and not that gown that _itches_ , some privacy and a day long cuddle with Eddie and Chris.

(It’s addicting to be cared for. _To be loved)_

“Well, next time, don’t have sex on a parking lot,” Hen throws casually, her eyes still closed.

Buck gaps at her and Eddie, God, Eddie _squeaks_ or some shit, looking so, so fucking guilty it would be hilarious if Buck wasn’t in the same boat. 

Hen opens her eyes, looking at them unimpressed behind her glasses. “What? Like there are a lot of reasons for your Jeep to be parked for _forty minutes_ on a 7-11’s parking lot at 4 am.”

And when you lie like that… it’s pretty damning. What were they thinking?! 

They’re both blushing, but Chim laughs so hard he has to sit himself, before holding his hand out for Eddie to high five him across the width of the bed. “ _Nice_ ,” he says, having to get up and lie across Buck’s thighs to get at Eddie’s good, but limp hand to force the high five on him.

“Athena watched the security video of the parking lot -apparently Eddie diving out of the way was pretty impressive,” Hen continues, slow clapping.

“Pretty sure it wasn’t the only impressive thing!” Chim exclaims, still laughing his ass off (and really, Buck needs to plan his vengeance. Albert can help). “ _Forty minutes?_ Damn, your legs must have been cramped Buckaroo.” He sighs wistfully, “I’m too old for car sex.”

Buck puts his good hand on his ear, wishing he could cover them both, and begins to chant “ _Lalalalalalalalala_ , don’t fucking want to hear about you and my sister! Urgh, I though our sex life was grossing you out,” he whines, not embarrassed per say, but people could have stayed ignorant about their reason for being on the parlking lot in the first place. That would have been nice. Hopefully, Athena won’t mention it to Bobby or he might rethink not moving their shifts.

“It does,” Chim says, pulling a _yuk_ face, “because it’s _you_. But Eddie’s my bro.”

Buck can’t even cross his arms, so he just frowns extra hard at Chim to convey his sentiment. Not that he can be pissed at Eddie and Chim. It’s not like he doesn’t brag and gush about his sex life to Hen whenever he can. “I hate all of you.”

“As if,” Chim huffs, pinching his leg, at the same time Hen snorts, “Yeah right.”

“No you don’t,” Eddie says, caressing his cheek.

Buck smiles all dopey at him, too strongly to be repressed. “No, I really don’t.”

It’s not a perfect win, far from it.

Fuck it.

Buck doesn’t care, he will take this imperfect win and enjoy it anyway, concussion and all. The game may be rigged and the odds were looking pretty bleak at some point in his life to, well, have a life worth living, but… _he’s not giving up._

He’s playing to win now, ‘cause losing this? That’s out of the question.

He takes Eddie’s hand and kisses it. “I love you.”

Eddie blushes a little and fuck… he called Buck a gentle giant once, but Eddie’s his equal. His eyes finds Buck, a little too shiny, and he carefully approaches him and kisses him, chapped lips against chapped lips, morning and hospital breath be damned.

“SEE! They’re kissing now!!” Chris shouts happily, drowning the _ewww_ and low wolf whistles from Chim and Hen.

They turn around and find Maddie holding Chris in the doorway. She looks a little worried, but it’s so difficult to feel down when Chris is around. The kid himself looks triumphant, pointing and giggling and, uh, not grossed out or something. Good to know.

Buck quickly pecks Eddie on the nose and his boyfriend goes cross eyed, rubbing at it like mad for a second.

“And you did that with a birthday cake wish? Maddie asks, pinching his cheek. “That’s really impressive Christopher.”

“That’s what the nurses said!”

_Ooooh boy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> onward to part three??? go to tumblr for a sneak peak at Against All Odds!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> If you loved it, kudos and comments are ALWAYS a good way to show it, here, on [tumblr](http://theleftboobgrabber.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/AngryGuii)! Check my [fic tag](https://theleftboobgrabber.tumblr.com/tagged/w) for updates and rambling :)
> 
> Feedback is love ❤


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